High As Honor
by RedSands
Summary: In this AU of A Song of Ice and Fire, Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully are able to conceive a boy on their first try. But after Jon's untimely demise, it falls upon Olyvar to manage the Vale in his father's stead. But between his sickly brother Robert, his possessive mother Lysa, and the threat of war, it proves difficult to live up to the words of his House...
1. Prologue (Jon Arryn)

A/N: As the summary suggests, the main difference in this AU is that Lysa Tully's first miscarriage actually results in birth to a son and heir, Olyvar Arryn. Besides that, I do not plan for there to be many major differences between the books and the AU up until a certain Hand loses his head. Everyone's personality will remain as it was in the original AU. This first chapter, a prologue, will serve as an introduction to young Olyvar, as well as depict one of the final nights of Jon Arryn's life. I hope you guys enjoy the AU, reviews are always welcome. Cheers!

* * *

"Robert, I fear you are going to bankrupt us one of these days." Jon Arryn worked tirelessly by candlelight, attempting to make out the financial reports that Lord Baelish, the Master of Coin, had given to him earlier in the day. Another loan taken out from the Iron Bank, another heap of interest added on to the already existing mountain. But Robert didn't care about the costs. He never did.

A knock came at the door, tearing Jon's attention from the report. He looked up to the door that lead into his chambers. _Who would be here at this hour? _"Enter." He commanded, watching as the door opened, revealing a young boy standing in the doorway. He was a skinny child, yet possessed broad shoulders for a boy his age. His hair had a tint of auburn, with brown eyes which could pierce the souls of those they looked at. Eyes that were so much like Jon's own.

"Olyvar. Why are you awake at this hour, my son?" Jon stayed in his chair, looking upon his first born son and the heir to Eyrie, only a boy of three and ten. His son was looking over to him, and Jon could notice that circles were developing under OIyvar's brown eyes.

"I couldn't sleep, Father. I've been…troubled, as of late." The boy was quite stoic, even Jon had to admit that he possessed quite a dull voice. Then again, Arryn's had never been known for possessing much passion, as Robert constantly reminded Jon of his own tone whenever he spoke.

"Come, sit near me." Jon waved at a spare chair near the table he was working at. His son took the seat, leaning forward and away from the table. His hair was long, and ran down onto his face as he leaned over. "What is it that troubles you, my boy?"

"It's the Prince. He's…" Olyvar stopped himself before continuing. "It's not my place, I know. But when I am around him, I cannot stand him!" Jon was taken aback by the bitterness and hatred in his son's voice. He had never heard his son speak out so brashly against someone or something before. "When we practice swordplay, he is rude to everyone he faces. When we're at dinner, his behavior is repulsive. And I especially can't stand how he treats his-"

"I understand, my son." Jon sympathized with his son. He too had observed the irrational actions of Prince Joffrey Baratheon. The incident that involved the killing of a pregnant cat and the presentation of an unborn kitten to Robert was a particularly disturbing event that Jon and his son had witnessed. Then there was the time the Crown Prince had killed and skinned a fawn that belonged to his brother, the Prince Tommen. Both were incidents Jon was sure were playing in the mind of his heir.

"But then why does the King not do anything? Why does he not punish the Prince?" _Why indeed?_ Jon looked up to the ceiling, stroking his goatee as he contemplated how best to explain to his son. It had been the Queen, Cersei Lannister, who had prevented any action against her son, sheltering the boy from any punishment that he may had faced for his misdeeds. Robert had once thought it wise to charge Joffrey with his brother Stannis, but Jon suspected that Cersei had blocked that idea from materializing. The Lioness absolutely refused to part with any of her children.

"It's complicated my boy. Prince Joffrey unfortunately does not share the same tutelage that you had under Lord Stannis." Jon could see a light smile dance onto his son's face. When Joffrey had not been put under Stannis' watchful eye, Jon had instead entrusted his own son to be mentored by Stannis. At the time Jon had been overwhelmed with his work as Robert's Hand, and needed Olyvar to be educated. He was thankful that Stannis had been so accepting of Olyvar as a ward in place of Joffrey.

There were times that Olyvar, and his mother for that matter, had complained to Jon about Stannis' apparently 'cruel' treatment towards him. But as the years went by, Olyvar complained less, and began to even admire the Lord of Dragonstone to a degree. Jon did not believe his own ears the first time his son had complemented Stannis in front of him, praising Stannis for as long as his voice would allow him to.

"It…it just frustrates me. Tommen and Myrcella, they're so much more fun to be around. So much easier to get along with. Yet Joffrey…" Jon gave a sympathetic look towards his son. Ever since the boy aged his sixth year, he had always desired someone his age to play with. Playing with Tommen and Myrcella was enjoyable for Olyvar, yes, but Jon understood that his son desired a boy his age to bond with. To spar and go hunting with. But alas, these activities that Olyvar enjoyed were things that Joffrey hated.

"I know, my son. But you must try to forget it, and more importantly try getting some sleep. You are joining me on the Small Council tomorrow, and I intend for you to learn as much as possible."

"Will Lord Stannis be there?" Jon Arryn crackled with laughter as his son's face lit up with admiration for his mentor. _Lord Stannis, I do believe there is at least one besides the Onion Knight that adores you. _

"Of course he will be, my boy. He is Master of Ships, after all." The boy's smile infused Jon with energy. It had ever since Olyvar's birth, when he as a healthy babe had smiled up at his father for the first time mere moments after the boy's birth. It was hard for even Jon to believe, old as he was, that it was thirteen years ago. "Now get to bed, or your mother will have your hide."

He patted Olyvar on the head, ruffling his hair before his son playfully swatted at his hand, laughing as he did. The boy smiled at his father before rising and making his way to the door. But as the boy opened it, he stopped, and looked back at his father once more, eyes troubled.

"Is there something else, my son?"

"It's Robert, Father. He…he continues to be sickly, even at six. I worry for him." Pain and worry were etched in the boy's eyes. Jon understood his eldest son's concerns, for they were concerns that Jon shared in as well. His youngest son Robert had not developed into the healthy child that Olyvar had become, possessing a weak figure and a feeble will. Jon shook his head before addressing his heir.

"I know, my boy. But give it time. He will grow as strong as you are. Perhaps even stronger." Olyvar smiled at him. It seemed that his lies had soothed his son…for now. The boy exited his chambers after giving a nod, closing the door behind him. Once he was alone again, Jon slouched in his chair, pondering a great many things. His younger son's health, the behavior of the Crown Prince, and the finances of the crown were all subjects that dwelled in his thoughts.

But as he continued contemplating a multitude of things, his mind suddenly came to two topics in particular; his own mortality, and the fate of the Vale. He was old, even if he didn't feel it, and there would be a day, perhaps soon, that he too would perish due to time's touch. And then, where would the House of Arryn be? He had little doubt that Olyvar would grow to be a worthy successor, but he was worried that Robert would not act as a worthy heir to his brother, or to the falcon.

Jon sighed and returned to his work. He would have to live a few more years before feeling comfortable leaving his House in the hands of his sons. Sending Olyvar to Stannis had proven to be a wise choice. Perhaps sending Robert to the Lord of Dragonstone would help his younger son as well. He would have to approach Stannis on the topic tomorrow.


	2. Olyvar I

A/N: I don't usually post an update for a story so quickly, but considering the positive response to the first chapter, I think that you guys deserve it.

So far there's only been one question asked, posted by Clara Wright. She asks 'Ar_e you going to give Olyver a paring or not?' _ While I don't have any plans on giving Olyvar a pairing at this point, I do think that this could change as the story goes on. Right now, I'm more interested in fleshing out Olyvar and giving him a personality that people can connect with and find believable. Speaking of which, this chapter is intended to introduce you more to Olyvar and his thoughts after the unfortunate passing of his father. Cheers :)

* * *

_ Father, why did you have to leave me?_ Olyvar Arryn thought in silence as he rode his horse up the Kingsroad. The boy had been lost in his own thoughts since the death of his father, the Hand of the King, unable to truly come to terms with the departure. He spoke very rarely, and did not engage anyone in conversation. In fact, the only three people he had spoken to after his father's death were his mentor Lord Stannis, King Robert and Maester Colemon, and despite the best attempts of the latter two, neither had helped to dull the pain he was feeling. Olyvar felt alone. Even when he was surrounded by his guard and by all the Baratheon men that were escorting the King and his family to Winterfell, he felt isolated from everyone around him.

But it was his loneliness that served as the reason why he was going to Winterfell in the first place. He had not seen his cousins in two years. _Or was it three?_ Even Olyvar could not remember when the last time he had made the trip to visit his family in the North. But he did remember the feelings of joy and contentment he had felt during his last encounter with the Starks. He was hopeful that such feelings would be repeated again.

"Lord Arryn…Lord Arryn!" Olyvar's concentration was broken by the calls of his name. He turned to the left to see that men from the royal procession had doubled back to find him. "Lord Arryn, we come with a message." It was a foreign feeling to him, being addressed as Lord Arryn instead of simply Olyvar or 'Young Lord Arryn' as he had formally been addressed by. He cleared his throat before addressing the supposed messengers.

"From the King?" Olyvar inquired, curious as to why Robert would send men back to deliver a message. Often the King would simply ride back to where Olyvar was and deliver the message himself, usually requesting that he dine along with the royal family or to go off on a hunt or to do something else the King enjoyed.

"No, my lord. Our message is sent from Lord Tyrion Lannister. He requests an audience with you." Olyvar raised a brow in curiosity. He had come in contact with the infamous Imp on more than one occasion during his time in King's Landing, but had never engaged him in conversation. _What is it that he would want with me?_ Olyvar pondered for a few moments. _Likely to extend his condolences. That's what everyone else has been doing._

"Tell Lord Tyrion that I shall ride to him within the hour." The men nodded and rode back towards the front of the caravan, Olyvar watching with slight suspicion as they rode off.

"Lord Olyvar." Olyvar turned left to see that Maester Colemon had appeared, now riding alongside of him. The maester had been in the service of his father and the House of Arryn, and had been aiding in the recovery of his father on the night of Jon Arryn's passing. To Olyvar, the maester was a tentative, but honest and loyal man who served his house well.

"Maester Colemon. I did not hear you ride up alongside of me." Olyvar saw a concerned look on the maester's face, despite seeing the smile that Colemon seemed to always wear whenever he addressed a member of the Arryns. "You seemed troubled, Maester."

"I know it's not my place to question you, my lord, but do you think it wise to meet with the Imp? His reputation is a tad bit…dubious, if I may say."

"So I've heard." The whispers of the Imp's behavior had not miss Olyvar's ears. _Not that it's any worse than Robert's. _"It is curious that he would request my presence, but I don't feel as if there's any harm to indulging his summon." Compared to everyone else at court, Olyvar had honestly found the Imp to be the most enjoyable to be around. If it had been up to Olyvar, he would have preferred the company Tyrion Lannister over Littlefinger.

"Perhaps you're right, my lord. Still, I advise you to use caution when in the presence of lions." Olyvar nodded and looked forward once more. Colemon's advice was sound and warranted, the Lannister were not an easy house to trust. Especially after the sacking of the capital, which had been led by Lord Tywin's forces. And although his father never said anything to foster distrust with the lions of the West, his mother never shied away from sowing distrusts.

_ Mother. _In the turmoil of his father's demise, he had nearly forgotten the flight of his mother, Lysa Tully, back to the Eyrie. She had tried to take him in the dead of night, a day after his father's passing. She had told him that King's Landing was not safe for him, that the Queen had killed her father, and that the lions of Lannister would do the same to him. She had been hysterical, and cursed at Olyvar when he had refused to go with her. The next morning, he found that she had also taken his brother Robert back with her, along with most of the entourage that had followed the Arryns to King's Landing.

"Maester." Olyvar called back to Colemon, who had been turning his horse to venture back to where he had come from in the procession.

"Yes, Lord Arryn?"

"The night after my father's death. You did not flee King's Landing with my mother and brother, when so many others did. Why?" It was true, out of many of the servants that the Arryns had brought with them to King's Landing, nearly all of them had fled back to the Eyrie. But Colemon had stayed alongside his young master instead of returning to the Eyrie alongside Olyvar's mother.

"My place is at your side, Lord Arryn. I was sworn to serve your father, and now I am sworn to serve you. And I promise you, my lord, that I will not fail you like I did your father." Olyvar could only give a small, forced smile at these words. The memory of his recently deceased father still pained him, but the maester's loyalty and council was greatly appreciated.

As Colemon left him, Olyvar's mind wandered back to the day after his mother fled, particularly to his conversation with his mentor. In truth, Olyvar had only refused his mother because he wanted to speak with the Lord of Dragonstone before taking any action. Stannis' words were wise and just, even if he did seem like he was in a foul mood most of the time. Even during their final meeting before parting, Olyvar felt that Stannis was trying to conceal that he was in a foul mood for some reason.

Their meeting had been brief, as Stannis said that he had business to take care of back at Dragonstone. It had been Stannis that had informed him of King Robert's intention of travelling north to visit his old friend, Eddard Stark, at Winterfell. He had also suggested that travelling alongside of Robert and meeting his Stark cousins would help to relieve the pain and loneliness that Olyvar was feeling.

Considering Stannis' guidance had rarely steered him incorrectly before, Olyvar decided to follow King Robert and his escort up to Winterfell for a visit with his family. From there, they would travel back down the Kingsroad into the Riverlands before parting off and making to the East and the Eyrie. _Home._ It was strange even thinking it, considering he had spent most of his life being fostered in King's Landing and Dragonstone. But the Eyrie would soon become his seat, along with the title of Warden of the East, as was traditionally given to the head of House Arryn.

Olyvar let some more time pass before spurring his horse forward towards the front in search of the Imp. Finally, he came across Tyrion Lannister, riding his horse near middle of the caravan. "Lord Tyrion. You requested my presence."

"Ahh, Lord Olyvar." The Imp flashed a crooked smile at Olyvar, one that was quite as unsettling as his mismatched eyes. "Yes, I do believe that I did send someone back to retrieve you. I was thankful to have received word that you would join me, although the fools I had sent to find you took their sweet time about it."

"The caravan is large, my lord. You can't blame them for the time it took to find me. Especially during times when I don't particularly like being found." The Imp's grin grew wider, apparently he had been amused with Olyvar's answer. "Tell me, Lord Tyrion. Have you called me here to express your condolences as well?"

"Oh no, Lord Arryn. They are offered, yes, but no, that's not the reason I sent for you. I called you here to see if you would be interested in playing a game with me."

"A game?" _What are you getting at, Imp? _"What sort of game, Lord Tyrion?" Caution and curiosity fought for control of Olyvar's mind, the warnings of Maester Colemon fighting with his desire to learn about this game the Imp mentioned.

"The game is called Cyvasse. Perhaps you've heard of it?" Olyvar's interest intensified. He had heard of the board game that was played by many of the nobles of Westeros. He had always wanted to try his hand at it, but Lord Stannis had always diverted his attention towards books and studies, calling the game a waste of time and 'childish'. _That was one of the few faults of Stannis. _Olyvar thought to himself with slight humor. _He often forgot that I was a child. _

"I've heard of the game, but Lord Stannis never let me play it while I was his ward."

"Naturally. Stannis never did have time for fun." Tyrion must have noticed that Olyvar had an annoyed look on his face upon hearing an insult towards his mentor, and quickly continued. "Perhaps you would like to learn at the next inn we stop at? I have been having a hard time finding a worthy opponent amongst us, and feel as if you would enjoy the game."

Olyvar thought about the proposition for a moment. He had always wanted to learn how to play, but the warnings of his mother and Maester Colemon curbed his enthusiasm slightly. After a moment to ponder, he agreed to take the Imp up on his offer. "Yes, I do believe that I would like to learn how to play this game. Thank you for your offer, Lord Tyrion."

"Wonderful to hear." Tyrion flashed another grin and turned to look forward. "Perhaps I can make you into a worthy opponent yet. We are a long way from Winterfell, and I don't want to be bored the entire way there."


	3. Tyrion I

A/N: I'm honestly just in that zone where I feel like writing constantly. This has become one of my favorite stories to plan and write out. I'm trying to make it so that there are going to be differences in the story due to Olyvar's inclusion, yet attempting to keep the core story intact. It's certainly a challenge that I'm finding very enjoyable.

Speaking of challenges, writing Tyrion chapters always seems to be the most difficult, at least expressing how intelligent he really is. Sarcasm and humor I think I have down though, and I do plan on including plenty of that. So, without further ado, here we are with the first POV of the Giant of Lannister. Cheers :)

* * *

It was well into the third week of the voyage to Winterfell, and Tyrion could never recall a time in his life where he had been so bored. The royal party has just crossed into the lands of the North, having taken a few days to fully traverse the bogs and swamps of the Neck. Tyrion could not understand for the life of him how the crannogmen could live as they did.

Even after the bogs of the Neck had been passed, the party had only come across the barren lands of the North. The lands had been covered in a thin layer of snow, despite it still being summer. Tyrion took no joys in surveying the lands, only remarking that the sight of the never ending pines being covered by snow had begun to become redundant to his eyes.

Thankfully the King had grown tired of travelling, or perhaps grown tired of the Queen's persistent nagging, and they had found an inn to stay for the night. Here, Tyrion could partake in the only form of entertainment he had found during the trip; playing Cyvasse, a game he had picked up nearly two months ago from some trader in King's Landing. But because he had lacked a quality opponent at both court and during this dreadful journey, he had taken to teaching the game of Cyvasse to the new Lord of the Eyrie, in hopes that the boy would eventually be a challenge to him.

"You're taking quite some time over there." Tyrion said across the candlelit table to his opponent, who ignored him and continued focusing on his own side of the board. _Good, he's learning. _During the first week of playing the game, Olyvar had been easily distracted by the words that Tyrion spoke, often second guessing himself and playing into Tyrion's hand.

But overtime, the Young Falcon had steadied his mind, and blocked out the taunts. The boy's brown eyes were now sharp, focused, and had a glint of determination in them to defeat Tyrion every night they played. It was scary to Tyrion how quickly the boy had improved. Now, even though the boy had yet to defeat him in a game, he was getting ever closer. There had even been some games where Tyrion had felt panicked, having to make moves he had not previously planned.

"Interesting." Tyrion remarked out loud when the boy had finally set his side of the board. _He's decided on a defensive approach. _The boy had been very aggressive in all of their recently played games, attacking Tyrion relentlessly from different angles. But it had played into Tyrion's hand each time. He had used Olyvar's aggression and single minded approach to capture his King and flanked the boy each time, able to easily capture pieces left defenseless.

Now, however, the falcon's side board looked quite different. Located in the right corner of Olyvar's side of the board was the king piece, surrounded by mountains and flanked by his crossbowman, who had been placed in a fort. From the last mountain tile ran a series of water tiles that ran across to the opposite side of the board, acting as a river. Behind it, heavy forest, helping to shield his pieces from Tyrion's dragon.

The rest of Olyvar's pieces were divided into two groups. The catapult had been placed alongside the rabble near both horsemen across the river, whilst the trebuchet and elephant were located directly behind them on the other side of the waterway. The dragon and spearman were located directly outside of the sole entrance to the King and fortress.

Tyrion himself had a similar idea for defense, having placed his king in the right corner of his side of the board. But instead of using so many mountains, he opted for using only two mountain tiles, placing them diagonally. From there, he put water tiles diagonally, severely limiting his opponent's movement should they reach him, as well as giving Tyrion two outlets to escape instead of the one that Olyvar had. _  
_

Olyvar moved his heavy horse first, placing it in the open field near Tyrion's forces. "Tempting bait, my Lord." Tyrion tried to draw a reaction to see what the intentions of the move were, but Olyvar remained stone faced, only sparing Tyrion a look with his brown eyes. "You know, it's good to play defensively." Tyrion exclaimed, now moving his light horsemen into the open fields of the map, just out of range for Olyvar's heavy to strike. "But isolating yourself is never good. One must always have more than one option of escape."

"Unless you live in the Eyrie." Tyrion's head snapped up at the boy's response, but Olyvar was not looking at him, instead choosing to maneuver his spearman across the river, perhaps in a move to deter Tyrion from using his horsemen further. _So that's his inspiration for the mountains. _Tyrion thought it a decent idea, attempting to emulate the impenetrable fortress of the Vale of Arryn on a board game. He had done a good job at it too, choosing to box in a corner without connecting more than two mountain tiles to one another. I_t does have its flaws though._

"This is not the Eyrie, my young lord." Tyrion suddenly grabbed for his dragon, moving it horizontally from left to right until it lined up perfectly with Olyvar's catapult. "You cannot just hide up in your fortress if you want to win this war."

"Perhaps I'm biding my time, Lord Tyrion." _The boy's voice is as cold as Stannis'. And he's just as smart as him._ Tyrion noticed that Olyvar's eyes never left the board, constantly moving back and forth trying to think up a strategy to defeat his opponent. Finally, the boy moved his own dragon into play, making sure to avoid placing it in range of Tyrion's own catapult or in the path of the enemy dragon.

"There are differences in biding time and hiding." This had done the trick, as Tyrion saw Olyvar give a fierce look upwards. Tyrion couldn't help but smile as he took a drink from his goblet of wine. He had finally gotten under the Young Falcon's feathers, if only but a little. Tyrion put down his goblet and moved his own crossbowman up on the right side, the trebuchet backing him in case Olyvar wanted to inflict early damage in the match.

The match went on for longer than Tyrion could have remembered any of their others going, with him unable to gain the advantage on Olyvar. The boy had learned much about how Tyrion played in each situation, and had used that knowledge to his advantage. Even after the two of them both moved seventeen turns each, the only casualties had been Olyvar's light horsemen and Tyrion's spearman, both of which had been consumed by the opposing dragons. Tyrion secretly lamented of the days when he could finish the boy in less than ten. Now it seemed as if those days would be behind him.

But throughout the match, Tyrion had done what he wanted to accomplish. He had scattered Olyvar's armies using his dragon to feign attempts on the opposing king. Now, instead of being grouped together, they were spread out along the lines of the river and mountains, and would be unable to aid one another in case of attack. _And the dragon will simply pick them off one by one._ Tyrion took a sip of his wine and looked at Olyvar, flashing a smile as he saw a bit of worry in the boy's brown eyes.

But before Tyrion could act on his turn, a knock came from the door. "Enter." Tyrion yelled, not taking his eyes off of the board. The door creaked open, and Tyrion heard footsteps of someone enter the room.

"Lord Tyrion, Lord Arryn, the King requests that both of you join him to sup and dine tonight." The unmistakable voice of Ser Barristan Selmy issued the request. Tyrion groaned. Typically he would be delighted in joining Robert, but he had just obtain the advantage and did not want to abandon the game.

"We would be delighted, Ser Barristan. We'll go to His Grace soon." Olyvar answered, ushering the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard out of their room. As soon as Tyrion heard the door shut and the footsteps lead away from the room, he bowed his head and gave a sigh. "Seems we have to abandon our game, Lord Tyrion."

"The King always has the worst timing. And just when the game was getting interesting." Tyrion finished his drink before looking at Olyvar, who was wearing a sheepish look on his face. _He knows he got saved. _"Suppose we should go. Robert never likes being kept for long."

The two walked out of the room and made their way down the steps to the bottom floor of the inn. Exiting the inn, Tyrion and Olyvar were met with a great many tents that were used to house all of the King's escort. It did not take long for the duo to find Robert's tent, as it was the largest of all of them. Stepping inside, they were met by raucous cheers and yells. It seemed as if Robert had been hosting a little feast for the night.

"Ahhh, Tyrion! Olyvar! Come, come. I have things to discuss with you both." There sat Robert Baratheon, a horn of ale in his hand and a boar on his plate. Tyrion had always found Robert to be fun company, but even he had to admit how the years of feasting had affected Robert's physique. Gone was the feared warrior king who destroyed the Targaryen dynasty and usurped the Iron Throne, and in his place was a man who had grown fat.

"Your Grace. Sister." Tyrion bowed to the King of Westeros before acknowledging his sister, Queen Cersei Lannister. She was dressed in the traditional Lannister red, her blonde hair enhancing her emerald eyes, and vice versa. "I am curious as to why you had to interrupt our game of cyvasse."

"You two have been playing that blasted game too often during this voyage. Come, share in drink with me my friends! I have something to discuss with Olyvar anyways." At the mention of this, Tyrion saw Cersei throw Robert a disgruntled look. Tyrion looked back to the Lord of the Eyrie, who simply looked at Tyrion and shrugged. It seems he too was unaware of what Robert spoke of.

"If Your Grace wills it." Tyrion waddled up to the high table, taking a seat and accepting a cup from one of the servants. He looked over the tent, spotting a few other notables. The Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon, was looking upon the festivities with distain, his eyes similar to those of his sister. The two Kingsguard on duty were Ser Barristan and Tyrion's brother, Ser Jamie, who looked particularly disinterested with the happenings of the King's tent.

"Now, let's see." Robert took a large swig of his horn of ale before lowering it. Tyrion could see some of the ale had spilled into Robert's beard. "Olyvar, I've been thinking lately about you. You and your father." Tyrion could see a slight bit of pain come across Robert's face. The death of Jon Arryn had affected him in ways Tyrion had not seen before. "In his honor, I'd like to betrothed my daughter to you, his eldest son."

_This IS a surprise._ Tyrion looked to Olvyar, who also shared in the shock of the proposal. _No wonder Cersei isn't pleased. _Tyrion knew that his sister was deeply devoted to her children, and wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of Robert marrying their children off to the children of the King's close friends. But noticing that the Queen did not voice her displeasure with the arrangement led Tyrion to assume that she had already done so, and that Robert rebuked her.

"Your Grace," Tyrion noticed that Olyvar was speaking slowly, perhaps trying to pick his words carefully. "I am honored by your proposal. But isn't Princess Myrcella a tad…young, to be promised to anyone?"

"Nonsense, she has just aged her tenth year, its fine time to find her a match for the future. And who better than the son of my most trusted adviser?" Tyrion looked from Olyvar to Robert and back again, and now noted that the boy's resistance was weakening from the kind words Robert was using to describe the late Lord Arryn. The boy pondered only for a moment more before bowing his head.

"If Your Grace wishes it, the Lord of the Eyrie shall oblige you. It will be an honor to marry your daughter." _A scripted response. Did Stannis teach you how to say that to Robert? _Tyrion could tell that the boy was still apprehensive about the pairing, but did as he was requested. Olyvar knew as well as anyone that when Robert's mind was made up that there was no refusing him, especially with the crown on his head.

"Wonderful! More drink!" The King yelled loudly before drowning himself in the remainder of ale that was in his horn. Many of those in the tent cheered on with their king, enjoying in the merriment and conversation of the tent. Tyrion could still see his sister with an angry look on her face, but couldn't understand why. The boy was a good match in his opinion. He was a moderately handsome boy who was intelligent and well learned under the King's own brother, who had thankfully not extinguished Olyvar's sense of humor and fun.

_He's certainly not a golden prince Cersei, but gods he's a decent enough boy. _Tyrion thought to himself as he accepted a glass of wine from one of the serving girls. _You should be happy. Besides, he's going to be a better leader than that little brat of yours ever will be. _With a smile, Tyrion tipped his cup back, content with celebrating for the night, the abandoned game of cyvasse long forgotten.

* * *

A/N #2: Moved up Myrcella's birth by two years so that it would be a reasonable matching. And yes, I did say that there wouldn't be pairings, and this isn't exactly a pairing yet. It's just that when I was reading through AGOT, when Robert proposed the Sansa/Joffrey matching, I felt like he would do the same with Olyvar and his daughter. So, there ya go. Daughter of the Stag betrothed to the Young Falcon. For how long, who's to say. Hope you guys enjoyed the update.


	4. Sansa I

Must...type...more...

Like I said, I'm just in a zone, and I'm finding that while the chapters aren't that long, they fit in well enough with the canonical story line, and I don't feel like I need to expand on them any further. For this chapter, we have the introduction to Sansa Stark, who, like the rest of her full siblings, are meeting their cousin for the first time in three years. Cheers.

* * *

Sansa stood in awe as she watched the royal procession enter the gates of Winterfell, the banners of the crowned stag and the lion flying high with their vibrant colors. Colors which were so much prettier than those of her own house, the grey direwolf of Winterfell. The colors of the visitors likely reflected some of the pretty colors that the South undoubtedly portrayed during the summer, just like the boring grey of the North was reflected by the colors of hers.

The knights that had rode to protect the king looked so gallant and strong, especially the two clad in the white of the Kingsguard. Sansa had heard that those of the Kingsguard were the greatest knights of the realm, charged with protecting their king and the royal family until their deaths. _Such a noble task. _Sansa continued admiring the ordeal of the royal arrival, and relishing the excitement.

But upon laying her eyes upon the King, Sansa's expectation were letdown, despite all of the noble words that her father had spoken of him. Sansa only saw a very large man who had trouble getting down from his own horse. She watched as she saw her father and the King exchanging pleasantries for the first time in nine years before being beckoned over to meet the royal family along with the rest of her siblings.

That's when she saw him. Prince Joffrey Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne. His golden hair was fluttering in the light wind, his soft green eyes enticing Sansa. She felt herself blush as he approached her, and she found herself unable to speak the courtesies that Septa Mordane had taught her. Thankfully, she did not have to speak, as her golden prince took her by the hand, kissing it out of respect.

"Mi'lady. I have heard tales of your radiance. They do not do you justice." Sansa could have fainted from his words, they were so soft and graceful. But before she could respond, a shriek of joy came from alongside her.

"OLYVAR!" Sansa's head turned as she watched her sister Arya streak wildly towards a boy who had just dismounted his horse, pulling him in a close embrace as they both laughed. _That's our cousin? _Sansa could barely believe it. The last time the Starks had seen him had been three years ago, and despite being older than her, Sansa remembered Olyvar Arryn being shorter than her. Now, he had grown to nearly the size of Robb.

"Dear Arya, it has been too long." The boy had a bit of a plain voice, but Sansa could recognize he was quite jubilant seeing his cousin once again. He was wearing a dark blue cloak that was lined with silver, with the banner of his house held behind by men who Sansa could only assume were members of his personal guard. Olyvar possessed broad shoulders and a light red hair coloring that came from his Tully side, much like Sansa's had. Desiring to approach him, Sansa turned back to address Prince Joffrey.

"Your Grace, I apologize but I request your leave. It has been quite some time since I've seen my cousin."

"Of course, my lady. Perhaps we can converse further during the feast tonight." Sansa thought that she heard a bit of bitterness in the prince's voice after her mentioning of her cousin, but he bowed nonetheless and left Sansa to meet her cousin. As she got closer, she saw that Olyvar's eyes were brown, like those that her father had attributed to his father, Jon Arryn.

"Sansa." Olyvar had looked up from speaking with Arya to see her approaching, greeting her with a small smile. Sansa saw that he had a strong jawline, with sharp brown eyes that he must have inherited from his father. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Likewise, my dear cousin." But before Sansa could curtsy, she felt herself being pulled into an embrace by her cousin. He was strong, quite surprising since he looked quite slender to Sansa. Most of his power must have been in his shoulders. She paused at first, but returned the embrace with full enthusiasm after getting over the initial shock. They stood there for a few moments before releasing her, his small smile having grown much wider. She pondered once more if this was the same Olyvar she had once known, and how three years could have changed him so much.

"Seems as if the falcon chick has finally grown." Sansa turned to see Robb approaching, a wide grin on his face. "Tell me, will you finally be able to keep up with us in our sparring in the yard?"

"I'm fairly sure I'll be able to manage this time." Sansa saw that her cousin now wore a similar, devilish grin as her brother. She could remember all of the times when Olyvar had struggled in swordplay against Robb, Jon, and Theon Greyjoy, having been so very little. But now, having grown significantly, Sansa expected that he would be more than capable to keep up with the rest of the boys his age, although Sansa had doubts that he would have any success against Jon.

"Good. We'll have to test that tomorrow." Robb extended his hand, which Olyvar clasped. Sansa saw the two lock eyes, and was shocked with how confident Olyvar was. _He is full of surprises. _"Come, cousin. Let us take you on a tour of Winterfell, in case you have forgotten your way around the castle."

"Thank you, Lord Stark. Your hospitality is appreciated." Olyvar and Robb released their grips and the group began walked towards the entrance to the castle. Sansa stayed close behind her siblings and cousin, observing the new Lord of the Eyrie with curiosity. It did not take long for her friend, Jeyne Poole, to find and join her in walking.

"Who is that boy walking with your siblings?" Jeyne asked Sansa, who couldn't help noticing the interested look that her friend had thrown towards Olyvar.

"His name is Olyvar Arryn. He's my cousin on my mother's side, and the Lord of the Eyrie."

"_That_ is Olyvar Arryn?" Jeyne's own shock at realizing who Olyvar was reflected Sansa's own. "Didn't you tell me that he shorter than you the last time he visited Winterfell?"

"Apparently three years can change people in a great number of ways. Still, for him to grow as he has…it's incredible." Sansa remarked as she watched Olyvar ruffled her sister's hair playfully, causing Arya to swat at his midsection. Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw her mother sweep in and embrace her nephew tightly, interrupting their march into the castle.

"Oh Nephew, it is wonderful to have you back in Winterfell. Was your trip well?" Catelyn Stark's face was full of jubilance as well, clearly excited to have one of her nephews returning to her home in the North. Sansa couldn't help but to smile. She had not seen that face on her mother in quite some time.

"I am well, Aunt Catelyn. All is well, although I thought myself lost in the Neck whilst we travelled through it." All shared in a laugh at this before Olyvar's face turned into an apologetic one. "I apologize for the absence of my mother. She thought it best if she returned to the Eyrie with my brother. He's been ill as of late."

"Perfectly reasonable. No matter, I'm sure that after little Robert is nursed back to health the two of them can accompany you on your next trip to Winterfell."

"Of course, Aunt Catelyn." Olyvar said nervously as he looked at his aunt beaming face. With that, Catelyn beckoned all of the children to explore Winterfell, reminding Arya and Bran to stay out of trouble. Sansa gave a small smile as she watched her family interact. _It seems things will be lively once more. _Sansa thought it to be a great change from the dreadful quiet that Winterfell always seemed to provide.

* * *

A/N: A second question comes to us from Spartan1117, who asks "When the war begins the Vale would support the North wouldn't they?" Well, that does seem likely to happen, considering Olyvar's relation to the Starks. Guess we will all have to see, right? :)


	5. Arya I

For this chapter, I decided to do something a little differently. I changed the second half of the original 'Arya I' in AGOT, leaving the first half intact. Thus, for the full chapter, one would have to read from the start of the chapter up to the time where Arya meets Jon, when they begin observing the training. I might just do this up until the time where Olyvar's existence makes significant changes in the original story. Remember, my goal is for the inclusion of an OC while still attempting to keep the main story and its arcs intact. With that said, the first POV for the not-so-ladylike Lady Arya of the House Stark. Cheers.

* * *

Jon gave her a curious look. "Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?"

Arya made a face at him. "I wanted to see them fight."

He smiled at her. "Come here, then."

As she climbed up alongside her brother to join him in watching the boys sparring, Arya felt appreciative of having Jon Snow as her brother. The embarrassment of her stitching being crooked earlier, the mocking look on Jeyne Poole's face. No doubt what Sansa would have shown her if she wasn't so well bred. The apathetic look on the Princess' face, and the demeaning nature of Septa Mordane. All of it was forgotten when she had found Jon.

As the sight of the training grounds came into view, she was disappointed. It was only the younger boys fighting under the guidance of Rodrik Cassel, and Bran and Prince Tommen were so heavily padded than they were having a tough time moving. _What a stupid way of fighting._ Arya thought to herself. _They can barely move at all._

"A shade more exhausting than needlework." Jon observed.

"A shade more fun as well." Arya responded, causing her brother to roar in laughter. Arya continued looking on, and saw that Robb was also in the yard, cheering Bran on. Beside him was Olyvar, who was wearing a small smile as he observed. Ayra was glad that he was back in Winterfell. She remembered all of the fun the two of them had exploring Winterfell during his previous visit. It was well worth being scolded by her mother and Septa Mordane.

"Enough!" ser Rodrik called off. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis. Get them out of their armor." He looked around. "Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

Robb, already sweaty from the previous bout, moved forward eagerly. "Gladly."

Prince Joffrey stepped into the sunlight in response to Rodrik's summons. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

"You are children." Theon Greyjoy barked at the crown prince.

"Robb may be a child. I am a prince, and I grow tired of swatting at Starks with play swords."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff." Robb said, Arya sensing a hint of pride in his voice. "Are you afraid?"

Prince Joffrey looked at him. "Oh, terrified." He said. "You're so much older." Some of the Lannister men laughed.

"Never mind him, Robb." Arya's head spun when she heard Olyvar addressing the rest of them. She had almost forgotten that he was even there. "The Prince is simply worried that his pride will be tainted if he loses again. It will show that he has no skill in swordsmanship. A fact that has already been established for those of us who have lived in King's Landing."

"That cousin of yours is bold." Jon commented. Arya nodded absently in agreement, but something about Olyvar's tone had caught her off guard. It wasn't the same pleasant tone that she had always heard in his voice. He was addressing the Crown Prince with compete distain, if not loathing. And from how red in the face that Joffrey got, Ayra could tell that the feeling was mutual.

"You would do kindly to not talk to your future King like that!" The boy's handsome features were erased, his face shriveled up in anger and malice. The Lannister men had stopped laughing, instead shooting scathing looks towards Olyvar. Arya also noticed Robb and Theon, both smirking due to Olyvar's words.

"Thankfully the King still has many years ahead of him. If you rule as well as you fight, I shudder to think how Westeros will suffer." The Arryn men laughed while the Stark men gave smirks. But Arya could tell that Olyvar was not saying these things in jest. He was serious, even from where she was she could see the sharpness in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

"Live swords!" Joffrey was now fully red in the face, furious at these slights. He motioned for a sword, which one of his men procured for him. The prince drew it, and pointed it at Olyvar, fury on his face. "I intend to remove those wings of yours, Arryn!"

An air of dire seriousness overtook the grounds. No longer was their laughter, the smirks on men's faces long removed. Arya could even feel Jon tense up, as if he was readying himself to rush in. Arya watched as her cousin's stoic face looked at Joffrey, his hand drifting ever closer to the hilt of his own sword.

"My lords. Cease this madness!" Rodrik made his voice known in the silence. "I will not permit the use of live swords on these grounds." Despite this command, the stare down between the Crown Prince and Olyvar continued for a couple of moments more, both boys refusing to look away. _They hate one another._ Arya thought that Joffrey was a right arse, but she had not expected Olyvar to be so bold in addressing the heir to the Iron Throne.

Finally, Joffrey sheathed his sword, regaining his former composure but still shooting a look of loathing in the direction of Olyvar. "Come Tommen. The hour of play is done." Arya watched as the plump little prince followed his elder brother away from the grounds, escorted by the Lannister men, all of them lead by a large man with a burned face. "These children are beneath us."

Robb's curses rang throughout the yard as Theon was holding him back. Ser Rodrik's face was red with fury due to Joffrey's insults. But Arya saw that Olyvar remained as he was, seemingly unfazed with Joffrey's slights.

"Another day, Your Grace. Another day." Ayra could hear the venom in her cousin's voice and saw as he watched with his sharp eyes as the princes departed. Eyes that even from this distance looked like those of a falcon. But as soon as Joffrey was out of sight, Olyvar returned to the pleasant mood that she had been so accustomed of seeing since his arrival. "Robb, care to take up arms with me?"

Robb was still looking at the Lannister men who were walking away, fuming. After a few moments, he calmed down, and Theon released him. "Of course." This is what Arya had been dying to see since Olyvar's arrival, and knew that Robb too had awaited it eagerly. Now, they would both see how much the Young Falcon had improved in his time away.

"It might be high time you return to your needle lessons, Arya." Arya turned to see Jon looking at her. "Septa Mordane's punishment will only grow the longer you remain out of her sight."

"But I want to watch Olyvar and Robb!" Arya said defiantly, turning back to watch as her brother and cousin, both in the possession of tourney swords. Olyvar had shed his cloak and opted for a shortsword and shield, unlike Robb who was wielding a longsword that was similar to Ice, which he would wield one day.

"Begin." Ser Rodrik's command prompted the boys to begin circling one another. Robb made the first strike, using his blunt longsword to swing down. Olyvar raised his shield to defend himself, deflecting Robb's sword as it made contact. The Lord of the Eyrie then swung at her brother's leg, but Robb was able to sidestep it.

"Arya!" Arya's head turned sharply to see a sight that she had been dreading; Her mother was marching towards her down the hall, Septa Mordane following closely behind.

"And this is where I take my leave. Good luck." Jon flashed her a look of sympathy before leaving, Ghost following swiftly behind him. Ayra cursed in silence, dreading the berating that her mother was about to deliver. With one last look, she saw the swords of Robb and Olyvar clash once final time, before hopping off the window and preparing herself for her mother's criticisms.

* * *

A/N: Our questions comes from Grey Winf, who I can only assume should be Grey Wind, but hey, we all make typos. He/She asks: "Is Olyvar the same age as Robb and Jon?" In the timeline, Olyvar is thirteen, born nine months after Robb was, placing him between Robb and Joffrey in age.

The second question comes from a Guest, asking "Wouldnt Olyvar gone back to cement his rule of the Vale instead of travelling north?" Good question, but there are a number of reasons why the Lord of the Eyrie traveled North. First, his mental state is fragile, and he feels like he needs to be around his family, namely his Stark cousins. Also, I believe that Lysa's nature, as well as the Blackfish's influence, will solidify Olyvar's rule before he returns to take his seat at the Eyrie. It's like Robert, being fostered by Lord Arryn whilst still being the Lord of the Stormlands.

I'd also like to thank everyone else who has left a review on the story. It's been very fun to write so far, as I'm sure that it's been fun for everyone to read. I hope I can keep everyone's interest in it.


	6. Eddard I

I'm going to feel bad when I slow down from this pace that I'm on. Spring break is almost up, and I'm going to have to get back to classes. Still, why stop while I'm ahead, right?

The goal of this chapter is to fill in a time gap between Arya I and Bran II, the night before the hunt and Bran's fall from the tower. Here, we get to see an interaction between Ned and Olyvar, which I probably should have done to some degree in Sansa I. But what's past is past, and at least in this and the next chapter (hint hint) I can show the interactions that Ned and Olyvar have. For now, the great Eddard Stark. Cheers.

* * *

"The girl is utterly rebellious. Her Septa continues to tell me of her unladylike behavior. And furth- what are you chuckling about?" Eddard Stark could not help but to chuckle as he listened to his wife's complaints about how unruly their daughter was.

"It can't be helped, my lady. Arya was born with the wolf's blood. You can see it in her appearance, more Stark than the rest of her siblings." It was true, Arya was the only one out of her siblings that took after the Stark looks. _All except Jon._

"Still, she needs to learn how to be a lady. She cannot act so childish forever." Catelyn wore an annoyed face at how her husband could be so carefree about the situation. Eddard knew that her disappointment would eventually pass.

"Come, my love." Catelyn gave Eddard a look before accepting his offer, joining him in sitting on the bed and allowing his arms to embrace her. He kissed her head, relishing in how sweet she smelled. "It is good that she is so lively. Especially now that her cousin has returned."

"Do you know how she explained herself to me?" Ned frowned. It seemed as if he would not escape the topic of his daughter's unruly behavior so easily. "She said that she simply wanted to see Olyvar spar. What girl abandons her needlework to simply watch swordplay?"

"Wolf's blood." Eddard reminded her, causing Catelyn's face to finally break into a smile. "She is too much like my sister for her own good. But Lyanna eventually calmed herself to a degree. Perhaps Arya shall as well."

"Perhaps you are right, my wise lord." Catelyn gave him a peck on the lips before resting her head on his shoulder. "She told me of how Olyvar and the Prince had almost come to blows. Do you think-"

"No." Eddard could identify the worry in his wife's voice. It had been a night since Maester Luwin entered their chambers, brandishing a message that had come from Catelyn's siter, Lysa. It was a secret message, housed in the secret compartment of a wooden box that Luwin had dissected with precision. A message that had served both as a warning, and as a plea.

Lysa accused the Lannisters of murdering Ned's mentor and surrogate father, Jon Arryn. She had apparently fled King's Landing a night after his death with their youngest son Robert, attempting to take Olyvar along with her. But in fear of being found out, she had fled after Olyvar had refused her. She pleaded with Catelyn to protect her son, and begged her sister to return him to the Eyrie with haste. The fear was that if Jon had been the target of Cersei, that Olyvar would obviously be the next target, despite being betrothed to the princess Myrcella.

"Ned, even if he doesn't know that his father was murdered, the Lannisters don't know he's unaware." Catelyn rose her head off of his shoulder, looking into his eyes, hers full of worry. "He is not safe in the capital anymore."

"Another reason why I _must _go south and be Robert's Hand, I assume?" Eddard had been annoyed with Luwin and Catelyn's pestering the night previous. But the plans had been set, and he had decided on taking his daughters and Bran south with him to be educated in the southern courts. Up until the Trident, he could keep an eye on Olyvar until the men of the Vale would have to part for the east.

"If not for Robert's sake, do it in Jon's name. Do it for our family, Ned." Eddard couldn't refuse the pleading look his wife was giving him. He kissed her again before rising from the bed. He didn't want to head south, if anything he wanted to refuse both of Robert's offers. But Cat was right. He could not leave his best friend and his mentor's son to the will of the lions. How would he be able to live with himself should he do so?

"I should go to him while there is daylight. Gods know I haven't talked to the boy since his arrival." It was true. Before Eddard could even greet his nephew Robert had requested that Ned lead him down into the crypts to pay his respects to Lyanna. And at the feast, Ned saw how much fun Olyvar was having with his children, specifically Arya and Bran. He did not want to interrupt.

"A fine idea. The boy will be likely be busy with his cousins again during supper, so this may be the best time to speak with him." Ned looked back to see Catelyn smiling the same soft smile that had helped Eddard to fall in love with her. Flashing a smile of his own, he exited her chambers and began to walk in the direction of his nephew's temporary quarters.

Catelyn had insisted that Olyvar stay in the Great Keep, along with the rest of her family. On the eve of his arrival, Olyvar had attempted unsuccessfully to take residence up in the First Keep, but despite his appeals, his aunt had refused him vehemently. He remembered Catelyn telling him that it was filthy, and it would be unbecoming of the Lord of the Eyrie to stay in such an unsightly place. _At least the boy has developed some spirit. Perhaps Stannis' tutelage has had positive effects. _Eddard had remembered his apprehension when Robert had informed him via raven that the first son of their mentor would be fostered with Robert's brother on Dragonstone. He had thought that it would have been best for Olyvar to be fostered with him, Catelyn and the children at Winterfell. But Robert and Jon's decision had been final, and Ned did not appeal any further.

He came to Olyvar's door, knocking in a request for entry. "Yes?" He heard from the other side of the door, inviting him to enter. As he opened the door, Ned saw his nephew dressed in a casual garb, a cloak laced with silver draped over his shoulders. He was seated in a chair, reading a piece of parchment Ned realized was a letter. The boy looked up from the letter, and upon seeing Ned his face broke into a wide smile. "Uncle."

"Good evening, Nephew." The boy rose from his chair and the two embraced, Ned surprised at how tall he had become. _Gods, is this the same boy that left my home three years ago? _But unmistakable were the brown eyes that the boy had. _The same as Jon's. _"What were you reading?"

"It's a message from one of my bannermen. Lord Yohn of Runestone." Ned released his nephew as the boy went back to reading the contents of the message. "He says that he is planning on meeting me at the Eyrie to swear fealty and pay respects after he returns from the tournament that's to be held in your honor."

"Ah, yes. That tournament Robert is so determined to have in my name." Ned had tried to dissuade his friend from holding the tournament in his honor. But Robert had proven to be as stubborn as the men had been in their youth, and insisted that the tournament would occur.

"A couple of my men wish for me to escort you all the way back to King's Landing and observe the tournament as well. A few want to participate in my father's honor." Ned was conflicted. He understood how much honoring Jon Arryn's memory meant to the men of the Eyrie, but he knew that King's Landing was no longer safe for the boy, especially if the stories of Stannis Baratheon's departure to Dragonstone were true. "My father's old squire keeps telling me how he will honor my house endlessly. Hugh, I think his name is."

"I overheard this young knight talking at the feast last night. His words are proof that your father, and you, are beloved in the Vale." The boy's face lit up at his uncle's kind words. "But surely your mother misses you as well."

Olyvar frowned. "I know that. But I feel like she can wait a little while longer. Besides, when I heard that the King was coming up here, I decided that I had to come and see all of you. I missed everyone."

"I'm sure you did, my boy. So, what is the Lord of the Eyrie's plan?"

"I'm fairly sure that I will see you to the Trident before we head east." _Good, his plan hasn't changed. _"I know that it would be quicker to go to White Harbor and go by sea, but Mother and Uncle Brynden can handle affairs in the Vale until I return. It's a shame that Lord Tyrion will not be accompanying us back south, though. He was quite enjoyable company."

_He's friends with the Imp?_ Ned knew that Catelyn would throw a fit if she found out that her nephew was cordial with a member of the family that Olyvar's mother had alleged murdered Jon Arryn. Eddard too felt a tad worried about this friendship, but still smiled at his nephew. "Wise beyond your years. Your father would be proud in your decisions." Ned saw his nephew give a sad smile at the mention of his father. The boy had clearly bonded with Jon, despite the vast age difference between the two of them. The son that Jon had desired for so long could not have turned out any better to Ned.

"I miss him." His nephew's voice was sad. It was the same voice that Ned had when he had learn of the demise of his own father and brother, and although they were under different terms, Ned understood how loss could affect a person. _The boy is so young too._

Ned ruffled his nephew's hair, shaded a slight Tully coloring. "I know you do, my boy. We all do. But we must continue on. For Jon's sake." The boy smiled up at his uncle. "Be sure to get ready in something a bit nobler. Your aunt will have your hide if you don't dress the part of a Lord Paramount."

"Yes, uncle Eddard." The boy sighed, causing Eddard to smile as he exited the quarters. The boy had developed a will that rivaled Arya's, although he did have enough brains to know that he would not defeat his aunt. Ned ruffled his hair one more time before exiting the room. As he walked back to his own room to prepare for supper, Ned found his thoughts wondering to the times he had spent in the Eyrie with Robert, fostered by Jon Arryn.

_Jon. I promise I'll make sure you sons are safe. But the boy might not need protecting for very long. _Eddard chuckled alone as he continued down the corridor, remarking how the boy had grown. Perhaps he would take him along on the hunting trip tomorrow. At the very least, his own son would enjoy company other than Joffrey.

* * *

A/N: There weren't any real questions posted from the previous chapter, but KnightofHolyLight did post a number of interesting discussion points in his/her review of Chapter 5 (Arya I) that are great points. And considering that he/she was the one who raise the point that the Ned and Olyvar interaction was missing, I guess that this chapter can partially be attributed to his/her point. :) hope you guys enjoy, and don't stop posting reviews! I need them haha.


	7. Olyvar II

This chapter, as I think people could have guessed, falls before/concurrent with Bran II in AGOT. I wanted to focus on Olyvar's interactions with Robb in this one, as well as a slight interaction with Bran at the beginning. I'm still continuing to establish the relationships that Olyvar has with his extended family, with a particular focus on his cousins. Cheers

* * *

"Men, let's catch our dinner." The men gave a mighty roar at their King's call for the hunt to begin, eager to go out into the wilds of the North and hunt for boar that inhabited the woods. Robert had obtained such a desire to go off and hunt since he arrived at Winterfell that Olyvar was surprised that it had taken him so long to go off on one.

The men had gathered before the sun had risen above the eastern horizon, at the hour where men could still see the warmth of their breath dissipate in the air. Olyvar had not been accustomed to these conditions, not since his last visit to the Eyrie could he remember being this short of breath. He had chosen to dress warm, wearing a heavy coat along with gloves. He had his sword holstered to his hip and a bow draped over his shoulder, quiver on his back. Despite the equipment he had, he felt bare without a shield.

"How does the northern morning treat you, cousin?" Olyvar turned to see Robb walking over to him, horse reigns in hand and his mount following him. Robb was dressed in a similar attire as Olyvar, a heavy coat and gloves. He was flanked by Theon Greyjoy, who was wearing his customary smirk, and both were followed closely by Robb's direwolf, Grey Wind. Olyvar had been intimidated of the direwolves the first time he had met them, but eventually quelled his fears of the beasts, in part to the time he had played with Arya's direwolf, Nymeria.

"I admit, it has been some time since I've breathed in crisp air. The south is a tad bit warmer than the north. Not that I mind so much." Olyvar's mind flashed back to his last trip to the Eyrie. It was the only thing that he could compare to what he was feeling now. Crisp air, the sharp wind, the dawn now barely peaking from behind the veil of trees. Despite the weather being chilling, Olyvar found that it was also refreshing.

"Let us hope that the capital hasn't made you soft, falcon." Theon taunted, wearing the grin that seemed to rest naturally on his face. Olyvar frowned, but gave Greyjoy no satisfaction in a response. Robb had warned him about Theon's personality, and Olyvar had made it a point to not let it get the better of him. "Well would you look at that, the Prince has decided to join the hunt."

Olyvar looked over to see Joffrey atop of his horse, flanked by Gregor Clegane and Ser Barristan Selmy. Joffrey looked over in their direction and gave a smug look towards the trio. Olyvar shot a scathing look back at him. _Maybe he'll get lost in the woods and squeal like a woman._ Such a thought gave Olyvar a tad bit of joy as he watched Joffrey turn his horse, heading towards the front to join the King.

"Ahh, so it is true." Olyvar turned to see that Tyrion had come alongside him atop his mount. "I had heard that you and my nephew had gotten into a little spat yesterday. Tell me, did the little fool challenge you to live swords as the men say he did?"

"Aye." Olyvar looked up at the Imp, which Olyvar thought would be an uncommon occurrence for anyone to do.

"Now what did you say to him that had him lose his head like that?" The Imp grinned that nefarious grin only he could. Where it had once made Olyvar uneasy, it was now met with a similar grin.

"Nothing of consequence, I assure you. But never mind that business, Lord Tyrion. If we don't start riding, we're going to be left behind."

"True, the King has never been patient. Well, I suppose we will see what our dear Robert catches for his dinner today." Tyrion spurred his horse to catch up with Robert and the rest of their party, who had already exited the gate. Olyvar mounted his own horse along with Robb and Theon. But before they exited, they saw that Bran was approaching them.

"Bran, what are you doing here?" Robb sounded slightly annoyed at the sight of his brother.

"I want to come!" Bran had been annoyed ever since the night previous, when his lord father had told him that he would not be allowed to attend the hunt. He looked up at the three elder boys, and Olyvar could see the longing in his younger cousin's eyes. "It's not fair."

"You're too young, Bran. Father told you that you had to stay here in Winterfell." This had been the wrong thing to say by Robb, as Bran only crossed his arms and looked even more annoyed. Olyvar decided to intervene.

"Bran, I promise that when I get back I'll play with you."

"Promise?" This had done the trick, as Bran's face lit up upon hearing Olyvar's promise. Bran and Olyvar had always practiced their swordplay, Bran always pretending that he was some great knight in history. The boy's knightly aspirations had shown through yesterday at supper, when all he had talked about were the stories of of Westeros' most famous knights.

"Only if you don't have a temper for not going hunting." Bran thought for a second before nodding enthusiastically in agreement, which Olyvar returned. "Alright, we've waited long enough. Come, we've fallen too far behind." Olyvar spurred his horse as Theon and Robb did the same, and the boys streaked out of the gates, Grey Wind eventually overtaking the three of them and leading them to the tail end of the hunting party.

"So tell me, how do you like having to become Joff's brother through marriage when you become a man?" Olyvar groaned as Theon snickered at Robb's inquiry. The betrothal to Princess Myrcella had become public the night previous, as Robert drunkenly yelled it out for all in Winterfell to hear. All the men had yelled and shouted their approvals, including Robb, who had ruffled his hair too many times for Olyvar to count.

"It's not exactly the most appealing thing that the gods could offer me." Olyvar had been slightly pressured into the betrothal to Myrcella by the King, who had proposed the matching in the honor of his father. If there was one thing that Olyvar had trouble refusing, it was anything that the King proposed in 'honor' of his father, which Robert had a knack at doing quite often.

"As much of a curse as that is, it's not as if you can complain much. That Myrcella is likely to grow into a woman more beautiful than the Queen when she was youthful." Greyjoy's point was one that Olyvar could not refute. Even at the age of ten, Myrcella had all of the looks to be considered the second coming of Cersei Lannister. Her long, golden curls were paired very well with her lovely green eyes. Any boy his age would be excited with how she would likely look in the future.

But Olyvar had never really felt anything romantic towards Myrcella. The two had always played in the Red Keep, and he found her much more pleasant than Joffrey, but he had never seen her in a light of a marriage suitor. Despite his feelings, he had stood and taken his wife-to-be's hand at the feast, bowing in front of the crowd in the Great Hall alongside of her. He could have sworn that he saw Myrcella blushing as he looked at her and she at him, but paid no further mind to it.

"Come on, you two. Grey Wind caught the scent of something." Robb spurred his horse to go faster, Olyvar and Theon repeating the action. Olyvar could see that they were breaking off from the main group, which he didn't mind. He had always felt surrounded by guards in King's Landing, and had never been able to go off alone on his own to explore the city outside of the Red Keep. He had been able to go off alone on Dragonstone from time to time, but there was nothing on Dragonstone that was interesting. _At least Shireen was fun to play with._

The boys crossed into the forest, slowing their horses due to the obstacles that the trees provided. The three dismounted and tied their horses around trees. Theon spoke. "I'll stay back and watch the horses. You two go on."

"You sure?" Robb gave Theon an apologetic look. "I could go back and fetch one of the guards-"

"It's fine Robb. Go with Olyvar and see if you two can get a buck or a boar to go along with what the King's hunting." Theon gave a wave as Robb and Olyvar went off further into the forest, Grey Wind's nose guiding the cousins deeper.

"Are you sure Grey Wind knows how to hunt yet?" Olyvar asked uncertainly, making sure to draw his bow and ready an arrow in case they spotted prey, or worse a pack of wolves. The direwolf growled lowly at the inquiry, apparently insulted by Olyvar's worry.

"Does that answer your question?" Olyvar smirked as he and Robb continued further, making sure to stay as quiet as they could. _Step softly, avoid branches. Just like Lord Stannis instructed. _Lord Stannis didn't hunt very often, but Olyvar knew that he was quite skilled. He had brought Olyvar along whenever he had been invited to join the King in a hunt, and always urged Olyvar to learn by studying how he and Robert went about tracking their prey.

Suddenly, Grey Wind's head perked up. "He's got something." Robb silently drew his sword as he recognized his companion had caught the scent of a wild animal.

"Let us hope it's not something that can eat us as well." Olyvar kept his bow facing down, but knew that should trouble come, he would be ready. He had a quick bow that shot true. Most of the time, at least. He had worked on his archery skills in the Red Keep, asking Ser Arys Oakheart to help train him whenever the Kingsguard member was not busy with his duties.

The trio walked for quite some time, making their way down a moderately steep hill. Once or twice Robb had almost fallen, but was able to regain himself before the trio continued onward. But despite having followed the scent for a distance, the young direwolf had seemingly lost it after a time. Olyvar loosened the tension he had put on his bow and stood up straight. "It looks like he lost it." Olyvar frowned, disappointed that they had not found anything yet. He knew that it was early in the hunt, but he still had the itch to find some prey.

"It's alright Grey Wind. We'll get it back." Robb scratched the young direwolf between the ears, much to Grey Wind's apparent enjoyment. "Well, I don't suppose you know the way back?"

Olyvar looked around. "You know these woods better than I do. Besides, I was paying attention to where your pet was bringing us." He looked over to Robb, who only shrugged.

"You two would do yourselves a good deal to learn this forest. Especially you, Robb." At first sound Olyvar had spun on his heel and aimed his arrow towards the noise, but lowered it as soon as he saw that it was simply his uncle walking towards them, Theon at his side.

"Father. Why are you here?" Robb asked.

"I saw that the three of you had trailed off from the group, and decided to come back and see what you were up to." Eddard looked down at them, causing Olyvar to avert meeting his uncle's gaze. The sternness his uncle's grey eyes told him that he was none too pleased that the boys had gone off alone. "Well, did you two find anything?"

"Grey Wind had a scent!" Robb said enthusiastically, attempting to impress his father. "He lost it after a while though." Robb's voice had changed in tone now, sounding much more dejected than when he had started explaining their findings to his father.

"Well, at least you three didn't find yourselves in any trouble. Come then, let's get back to the horses. Robert is up ahead from where you stopped." The Lord Stark turned heel and lead the way back, Theon waiting to join the boys as they followed.

"Well, that could not have gone any worse." Olyvar said, still disappointed they had not found anything on their own.

"You could have been found by a bear or a pack of wolves." Theon pointed out. "That could have turned nasty for the two of you."

"Always the pessimist, aren't you Greyjoy?" Olyvar shot at Theon, who responded only by flashing his typical grin.

"We would have been fine." Robb said, a slight gleam appearing in his eye now that he was aware that they wouldn't be punished by his father. "Olyvar's bow, my sword, and Grey Wind fangs. We could have defeated anything out here."

"Your youth would have been the death of you." Lord Stark called back, causing Robb to flush a slight red. "Now when we get out of these woods, please try to stay close. Especially you, Olyvar." Olyvar gave a sheepish look as he was addressed. His uncle apparently still remembered how troublesome he had been with Bran and Arya.

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky when we meet up with the rest of the party." Robb's optimism brought a smile to Olyvar's face. _It's going to be fun visiting Winterfell when we're older. Especially when Bran can join in the hunt._

* * *

A/N: There weren't any real questions asked in the previous chapter, although the reviews were nice. And how about that parting thought by Olyvar? Kinda sad since we know what happens to Bran, don't we? :(


	8. Jon I

This is probably the final chapter of my posting spree for the story. As was the case of Arya I, this chapter focuses on changes to the first half of what would be the 'GOT Jon II' chapter if Olyvar were to exist. I figured that since Jon isn't going to be focused on too much in this story (considering the storyline of the books will remain intact), that there should be at least one chapter of interaction between Jon and Olyvar.

Remember that the 'GOT Tyrion I' chapter remains intact before this one, so if you're reading along with the original book or watching the show (both of which I recommend) it would become Tyrion II in this story, and then this chapter would occur. If that makes sense. :p

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

_You have to see him before you go. _Jon Snow had wept for days since Bran's fall. And during all of those days he had not been able to bring himself to see his younger brother's motionless body, under constant guard by the boy's mother. But now, he had run out of time to stall with. His uncle Benjen was preparing to return to the Wall, and had told Jon to make his final goodbyes.

Ghost followed him as he crossed the yard going to where he knew Bran was resting. Maester Luwin had been quite optimistic that he would survive the fall since he had not gotten any worse, but the memory of seeing Bran the first time after the fall nearly a fortnight ago had haunted Jon's dreams, as he was sure it was haunting those of the rest of his siblings.

As he made it to the stairs, he turned and saw another figure walking towards him, similar in size to himself. He had on an unmistakable blue cloak, trimmed with silver, and a light hair coloring that resembled a Tully. But what struck Jon the most were his eyes, those sharp brown eyes that seemed to be able to pierce anyone their gaze fell upon, even if they only belonged to a boy.

"Lord Snow." Olyvar Arryn spoke pleasantly, extending his hand for Jon to take. He accepted the offer, remembering back to the days when he and Olyvar had sparred three years prior. The boy had not been much of a challenge to dispatch, but Olyvar had never complained that he was being defeated so easily. _No, _Jon thought. _But his aunt did whenever I was the one who beat him._

"Lord Arryn." Jon gave a bow out of courtesy. "I was about to visit my brother before I depart for the Wall."

"A coincidence, I was about to do the same. Not depart for the Wall, of course, but visit Bran." Jon felt a sad smile come over his face, reflecting the one that the new Lord of the Eyrie wore as well. The attempt at humor was appreciated by Jon.

"I suppose I shall wait while you see him then."

"Nonsense, Snow. You have every right to see him as I. Come, let us go together." Jon nodded but couldn't help but feel apprehensive at the thought of visiting Bran with Olyvar. Not while Catelyn Tully Stark sat alongside his fallen brother. But the Young Falcon had insisted, and Jon didn't feel it was his place to refuse the Lord of the Vale. So he went up the stairs alongside Olyvar, Ghost following closely behind them.

They made it to the door, where Jon's fears were realized. Hovering besides Bran was his mother, who had not noticed the two new arrivals until Olyvar made his voice known. "Aunt Catelyn." Lady Stark's head perked up at the sound of her nephew's soft tone, and for a moment had a look of joy on her face. Then she had Jon, and her face became emotionless again.

"What are you doing here?" Jon knew that she was only addressing him with her strangely emotionless voice. Absent was the distain that he had come accustomed hearing from her whenever she had addressed his existence. But before he could speak, Olyvar made his voice known.

"Jon and I were coming to check on Bran."

"I came to say goodbye before I departed." Jon now spoke, steadying himself. _Do not be afraid of her._ Her eyes met his, and Jon thought that she had aged at least two decades.

"You've said it. Now leave us."

"Aunt Catelyn!" Jon could hear the appalled tone that filled Olyvar's voice, directed at his aunt.

"Its okay, Olyvar." Jon looked to the Lord of the Eyrie and gave a nod to assure him. He went alongside Bran, gripping Bran's hand. The skin had gripped the bones after the fall, yet Jon saw Bran's little chest rising, taking in shallow breaths before exhaling them. Catelyn Stark would not drive him away. Not this time.

"Bran, I'm sorry." Jon began. "I'm sorry I didn't come earlier. I was afraid. Please don't die, Bran. We're all waiting for you to wake up." Lady Stark was watching silently. Jon wondered if it was her nephew's appeal that had silenced her, or if she simply accepted Jon being there now. "I have to go now. Uncle Benjen is waiting for take me north, to the Wall. We have to leave today, before the snow falls."

As he kissed his brother lightly on the lips, he heard the Lady Stark speak. "I wanted him to stay here with me." Jon turned and watch her, wearily. He did not know whether she was addressing him, Olyvar, or both of the boys. "I went to the sept and prayed seven times to the seven faces that Ned would change his mind, and leave the boy here." Jon saw Lady Stark look over to her nephew, who was wearing a stoic face. "Sometimes prayers are answered."

Olyvar did not say anything, only watching Bran's lifeless body with those eyes of his. Jon brought it upon himself to speak. "It is not your fault."

This was the wrong thing to say, as Catelyn Stark turned on him with poison in her eyes. "I do not need your comfort, bastard."

Jon lowered his eyes and took Bran's free hand into his own, squeezing it. "Good-bye." He rose up and began for the door, content with his final farewell.

He had passed the Young Falcon and was nearly out the door when she called out to him. "Jon." He should have left, but it had been the first time she had ever referred to him by his name.

"Yes?"

"It should have been you." With that, she turned back to her son and began to weep, her whole body shaking. As Jon turned to leave, he saw the eyes of the Young Falcon. They were sharper than he had ever seen them, and he was staring directly at his aunt. Jon left, but heard footsteps follow him out the door. It seemed as if Olyvar Arryn was content with his visit.

"I apologize for my aunt's behavior. She is exhausted and troubled." Jon understood what Olyvar was doing. He was trying to explain away his aunt's behavior, attempting to protect her image. Jon could not blame him, it's what he would do for his aunt. If he had one, that is.

"There's no need to apologize, Lord Arryn." Jon had grown used to it, the coldness that Lady Stark had treated him with. Where there had been a time when he would run off and cry, he grew strong. He would need it for the Wall.

A time passed as the two boys walked through the hectic, confused yard. Wagons were being loaded, men shouting, everyone ready to be off before the heavy snow began to fall. "We should have taken him." Jon turned to see Olyvar Arryn looking back where they had just come from. "Before we went hunting, Bran came to us and pleaded for us to take him with." He bowed his head. "I promised him that I would play with him when he got back."

"It's not your fault, Lord Arryn." Jon couldn't help but feel sympathetic to Olyvar. The boy had come to get away from the death of his father, and now he was dealing with the possibility that one of his close kin was about to pass.

"He had told me 'It's not fair.' Angry that he couldn't come with us." _His voice is full of sadness._ Jon observed the Young Falcon as he sighed. "He was right. It isn't."

Jon grabbed Olyvar's shoulder. "He will be fine." Jon was surprised that his voice was full of certainty. Yet somehow he knew that his brother would survive. Olyvar gave him a sad smile.

"Let us hope so." Olyvar looked over Jon's shoulder, and when Jon turned he saw that Robb was shouting commands in the yard. He seemed to have grown after Bran's fall and his mother's collapse. "You should speak to him." Olyvar said.

"You will not join us?" Jon inquired, but Olyvar shook his head with a smile.

"This is a meeting between brothers. I am not welcome." Olyvar extended his hand once more for Jon to take. As he did, Jon felt happy for his siblings that they had a cousin like Olyvar. _He will watch over them. _The Lord of the Eyrie nodded before taking his leave. Jon watched him for a few moments before turning and approaching Robb.

"Uncle Benjen is looking for you." Robb told Jon. "He wanted to be gone an hour ago."

"I know." Jon said. "Soon."

* * *

A/N: Read the rest of 'GOT Jon II' for the rest of this chapter. I decided to leave the second half as it would be in the canon because Olyvar would not be present for the farewell to Arya.


	9. Eddard II

A very very short update. This update takes place in 'GOT Eddard II' during the conversation where Ned and Robert discuss the new Warden of the East. Normally I wouldn't rewrite, but considering the circumstances I feel like it is necessary.

***It is necessary to read 'GOT Eddard II'' for this chapter to make any sense. If you don't have the books, which I believe a lot of people reading this do have them, then sorry, but this chapter, and the story in general, might be a tougher read until I get into ACOK.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"He will not cross." Eddard promised. His discussion with Robert about the supposed Dothraki threat had grown tiresome, and Ned felt the king's fears were irrational. "And if by some mischance that he does, we will throw him back into the sea. Once you choose a new Warden of the East-"

The King groaned. "Ned, I have my doubts about naming the boy so early. He's still only a boy, and with the Dothraki bedding the Targaryens, I'd be mad to rest a quarter of the realm on the shoulders of the boy."

"Olyvar should not be denied his birthright. The Arryns have been Wardens of the East for nearly three centuries." Ned was heated in the defense of his nephew. Robert may not have been able to see how the boy had grown since the death of his father, but Ned had. Olyvar was ready, and in Ned's eyes he had no need for regent or replacement. "Your brother has raised him well, Robert."

The king sat there on his steed, frowning and saying nothing in response. Ned could see that he was uncomfortable.

"Unless," Ned continued. "You have already promised the title to someone else."

For a moment, Robert looked startled by the accusation. But in the same moment, the look turned into one of annoyance. "So what if I have?"

"It's Jaime Lannister, isn't it?"

Robert kicked his horse in the side, urging his horse down the ledge that he and Ned were traversing. Ned followed stride for stride, looking suspiciously at the King. Finally, Robert spoke. "Yes."

"A fine way to honor Jon's memory. Give away the title that rightfully belongs to his son. All because your wife told you to do so."

"Come off it, Ned." But no soothing words or pleas for silence would quell Ned's anger about the arrangement. _Why Robert? _Ned continued the silent questioning of his friend, even as the king continued his explanation. "The boy is three and ten, he's not even a man yet. I cannot entrust the east to him. What would the rest of the realm say?"

"The Vale will not be pleased. They admire the boy, he's growing to be the very image of Jon." Ned remembered the letter from Lord Royce that his nephew had shown him a little over a fortnight ago. "They would rally for him with more fury than they would the Kingslayer."

"The boy has never been in command, Ned. Jaime has, and that will matter when the Dothraki come for my Kingdoms."

"_If _they come, Robert. And if they do, it will not be for many years. By that point, Olyvar will have become a man, likely married to your daughter." Ned noticed that this had struck Robert, as if the king had forgotten that Olyvar had been paired to his daughter by his own command. Ned observed as Robert stroked his beard a few times whilst they continued riding.

"Enough of this. I grow tired of the discussion." Ned was annoyed and relieved all at once by Robert's response. _He truly hasn't changed. Stubborn as ever._

"Then may I speak frankly to you, Your Grace?"

"I haven't been able to stop you." Robert grumbled.

"Do you trust Jaime Lannister?"

* * *

A/N: Ahh, tension over the title of Warden of the East. I always did think that this argument should be important in this AU, considering that Ned has such a high opinion about his nephew and, ya know, the whole 'honor' thing Ned always has going on.

This question stems back to Chapter 7, which I missed in Chapter 8 because I was posting so quickly. Sparky She-Demon asks "When Olyvar splits off from the group returning to King's Landing, does Myrcella go to the Eyrie with him?" What an interesting question. Guess we'll find out soon, won't we? ;)


	10. Arya II

This is a chapter that doesn't exist in the books, but I figured would be a pretty good one to include since the departure of the royals from Winterfell isn't exactly covered. We only know that they departed the same day Tyrion and Jon went north to the Wall, so I figured that an Arya chapter that occurs right after the Jon chapter would make the most sense to write. This chapter comes before 'GOT Tyrion II' for those of you following along with the books.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

The day had finally come for the king and his family to leave Winterfell, meaning that Ayra would be travelling along with her father and Sansa to the capital. She would miss Winterfell, but up until that morning, Arya couldn't have been any more ready to leave, especially if that meant that she could explore all the places that they would see as they rode down to King's Landing.

But today, Arya lacked the excitement that she had once been so full of, and was quite sad. _I wish Bran was coming with us._ Her little brother still had not moved since his fall. She had visited him twice, and twice she cried after doing so.

And then there was Jon's goodbye to her. _Why does he have to go to the stupid Wall anyways?_ Arya was unable to understand why Jon couldn't simply come with her to King's Landing, or stay with Robb in Winterfell. To stay with his family. But Jon had gone off north with uncle Benjen and the Queen's funny brother nonetheless. Arya had watched them leaving, holding back the tears in her eyes as she did so.

"Arya!" She heard her father calling for her from a distance away, even over all of the noise that was occurring in the yard. Arya had been busy searching for a good place to hide Needle on the trip down. She had been able to find a good spot place in the wagons, so as not to alert anyone, especially Sansa and Septa Mordane.

"Coming!" Arya gave a nod at her handiwork before streaking off towards the voice of her father, Nymeria hot on her heels. She dodged one way then another, avoiding a great number of men who were carrying a great variety of things. Most of them were the king's men, and most of the things belonged to the Queen. Arya found it all unnecessary.

Finally, she came up to her father, who was standing near the South Gate alongside of Jory Cassel and Olyvar. He looked down and spotted her. "Ahh, there you are. Your septa has been looking for you."

"If you had told me that in the first place, I wouldn't have come to you." She grew soft smiles from Father and Jory, but an audible snicker from her cousin, who was attempting to hide it. Arya was glad that Olyvar would be on the trip with them. She shuttered to think what it would be like just having Sansa along.

After Father shot Olyvar a silencing look, he turned back to Arya. "You still have to go to your lessons, sweetling. No matter how much you hate them." Arya frowned at her father's response. Even though he always looked guilty, the routine had been established; whenever Arya missed her lessons, she would be lectured by her mother, then sweetly talked to by her father. It was an annoying pattern to you.

"Uncle, can't Arya miss her lessons for the day?" Arya beamed as Olyvar attempted to come to her rescue. "We are leaving today, and she won't be back in Winterfell for some time. It's quite a special occasion, you know."

"My boy, I severely doubt that Lord Stannis ever let you miss any of his lessons on Dragonstone." Father's swift response drew a sheepish look out of Olyvar. From all the things he had said about his mentor, Arya found Stannis Baratheon to be like Sansa, unable to have any fun. She was surprised that the humor hadn't been driven out of Olyvar. _He would have had more fun here in Winterfell._

"Now, Arya." Arya's attention turned back to her father. "I don't want to have to hear from your septa that you've been skipping your lessons while we are travelling south. Understand?"

"Yes, Father." Arya said, annoyed that her father had been able to defeat both her and Olyvar with little effort, as well as Jory chuckling at their defeats.

"Good girl. Now, go to the wagon. We will be off soon."

"I'll go with her, uncle Eddard." Olyvar stepped towards Arya, putting his hand on her shoulder and looking back at Father. "I have something to discuss with my men anyways."

"Very well. Though I believe Robert expects you at the front with the rest of us. It won't be wise to keep the king waiting."

"Tell him that I'll make my way to the front eventually." Olyvar called back, as he and Arya had already started walking back towards the wagon. Nymeria had turned around as well, and wasn't too far ahead of the both of them. "Robert won't mind my absence too much, I'm sure."

As they walked back to the wagon, Arya took in her cousin. Everyone said that he took to the Tully hair color, but Arya thought it looked more brown than auburn. _Did his father have brown hair?_ She knew that Olyvar's brown eyes were passed from his father, the late Lord Arryn. The sharp brown eyes that resembled those of a falcon.

She saw Olyvar check over his shoulder once or twice, and knew exactly what he was doing. He finally looked down at her. "Well, did you find a good place to hide it?"

Arya felt herself blush. "_How did you find out?_" She hissed at him, in barely a whisper.

"I saw you holding it this morning. I knew right away." She gave an annoyed look in response to his grin. "Come on, don't be like that. This means we can play together on the way down the Kingsroad."

"Except Septa Mordane will only take it away from me." Arya said begrudgingly. Jon had warned Arya of that fact before giving Needle to her, and implored her to hide it from her septa at all times.

"Ahhh, that overbearing septa of yours. That is a problem." Arya laughed. Olyvar always took her side when it came to Septa Mordane. She suspected that Olyvar had a dislike for the septa ever since she scolded him for interrupting Arya and Sansa's lessons so they could come and play during his last visit. "Well, we'll have to find a way around that somehow."

"As you say, _my lord._" The two of them had a laugh at her impersonation of Sansa. "Olyvar, what's the Kingsroad like?"

"What's it like?" Olyvar looked to her then up to the sky to ponder her question. "Well to start, it's bloody long. And in the North, there aren't many things to look at besides the pines and fields. The neck is full of bogs and swamps, but we did pass the ruins of an old castle on the way. I forget the name though."

"Moat Cailin?" Arya asked. She had heard the name of a keep near the Neck from talks that her father and Ser Rodrik.

"That's the one. Fairly sure, at least. Once you get south, there's a lot more to see and explore. The Trident is an amazing sight."

"Isn't that where the king won the throne from the Targaryens?" Arya recalled hearing the story from Old Nan, Robert engaging in single combat with Rhaegar Targaryen whilst numerous other battles were waged around them.

"Yup. They say that Robert caved in Rhaegar's breastplate with his warhammer, and scattered the embedded rubies into the Trident. That's why they call it the Ruby Ford these days. Ahh, here we are." They had finally made it to the wagon what would be carrying Arya, Sansa and their septa down south. "Now, be sure to stay out of trouble. At least when I'm not around."

Arya smiled. "So we can get in trouble if you're around?" He laughed, but she knew that Olyvar wouldn't tell her father a word of her planned explorations. It was more likely that the Lord of the Vale would gladly take part in them instead.

"You're going to get me in trouble, dear Arya." He ruffled her hair playfully before she swatted his hand away, both of them wearing smiles. "I have to speak with my maester. I'll be sure to have dinner with you, Sansa, and Uncle tonight." He started walking away, waving back at his cousin, which Arya returned enthusiastically.

_Rhaegar's rubies. _The thought of exploring the Ruby Ford was almost unbearable for Arya. Her excitement was renewed, and she couldn't wait to explore all the Kingsroad and the south could offer. While she was lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed Sansa climb into the wagon alongside of her.

"What are you so happy about?" She asked suspiciously.

"Oh, just something Olyvar told me about the Kingsroad."

* * *

A/N: Ahh, mischievous little Arya. I figured that it would be good to involve Olyvar as a motivator to Arya's behavior, simply because he's still a kid too and wants to have just as much fun as her (and when you've been Stannis' ward, you need all the fun you can get ;) )

Thanks again for the reviews you guys. I'm happy that this project is actually building a lot of steam and support. It's fun and challenging rewriting the series whilst still maintaining as much of the canon as possible. I'm worried I might diverge a bit when we come to ACOK territory, but we'll cross that bridge when it comes.


	11. Olyvar III

Guess the streak continues. This chapter falls after 'GOT Sansa I' and concurrent with 'GOT Eddard III' This is, in my opinion, the most that I'm going to deviate from AGOT canon, simply because Olyvar's inclusion in affairs, as well as his personality, calls for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Ride, damnit!" The fury had not dulled since Olyvar learned of Arya's disappearance. It had taken the coaxing of both his uncle and Maester Colemon to prevent him from striking Joffrey down after hearing rumors of prince's jests and insults towards his cousin. Now, having heard that Arya had been retrieved by a party headed by Jory Cassel on the fourth day of searches, he rode with his guard of twenty back to the castle of Lord Darry, where the royals had taken up residence.

"My lord, remember to calm yourself!" Olyvar had heard the maester's call, but completely ignored it. He was furious at the turn of events. Firstly, he was already four days behind on his return to the Eyrie, where he still had to be sworn in as Lord of the Vale. But most important was that his cousin had been driven off by that arse of a prince.

They had now made it back to the edge of the encampment, where the Lannister men had set up their tents. "Make way for the Lord of the Vale!" Ser Hugh called out, the newly anointed knight sending warning that their horses were not likely to stop, and that those in their way would be at the mercy of the stampede. Men moved quickly out of the way as Olyvar and his men rode relentlessly towards the front of the castle.

"Lord Arryn-" A servant began to address him, one which Olyvar recognized as one of Cersei's men.

"Where?!" Olyvar demanded, dismounting his horse and nearly drawing his weapon if not for Ser Hugh and Maester Colemon restraining him. The man was a tad smaller than Olyvar and stood in fear of him, taken aback by the aggressiveness of the Lord of the Eyrie.

"T-the audience chambers." Olyvar shrugged off his own men, storming through the gate towards the chambers, ignoring the audible murmurs from behind him.

"My lord, I implore you. Be at peace, show dignity!" Colemon's pleas went unanswered again. The past four days had been a nightmare at Castle Darry, stronghold of the former Targaryen loyalists. Stark men, Lannister men, king's men, Darry men and Arryn men. All inhabiting a castle that was far too small for them, and all about to tear one another's throats out. "Be reasonable. We do not want a repeat of your spat with the queen's men!"

The confrontation had occurred on the first night of their stay, when Olyvar had overheard one of Cersei's knights belittle his father publically, unaware that he was Jon Arryn's son. Swords had been drawn, and it had nearly grown out of control before Robert and Lord Darry stepped in to quell both sides. _A slight I will not forget. _Olyvar grinded his teeth as he remembered the spat.

He came to the doors of the chambers, opening them without a second thought. He heard Joffrey's voice. "They all attacked me, and they threw Lion's Tooth into the river!"

"A likely tale, you being beaten by a girl!" Olyvar had not contained himself as he entered along with a small contingent of the men who had been searching and riding with him. The scene came into view. It was crowded, the king and queen seated at the head of the chambers, Joffrey standing near his mother. Lord Stark had been facing the king, but had turned around to see who had entered. He looked stern.

And there was little Arya, bathed in dirt with a hungry face. A sense of relief swept over Olyvar as soon as he saw her. _Thank the Seven, she is safe._ She gave a weak smile at him, but his anger would only allow him to nod to her.

The rest were of little consequence. Lord Darry was hiding his look well, Lord Renly smiling for reasons unknown, the Lord Commander Ser Barristan looking grave. And Lannister men shooting most hostile faces at the Lord of the Eyrie.

"_How dare you!" _Cersei rose from her chair, irate with the intrusion. "How dare you speak to your Prince in that matter!"

"Cersei!" Robert demanded. He looked older than usual, his face sunken in as he sat on Lord Darry's chair.

"You would let him speak ill against your son?!" The queen had extended her finger at Olyvar, pointing at him as she addressed her husband.

"Silence!" roared Robert, causing Cersei to lower her finger. She looked defiantly at Robert for a few moments before lowering herself in her chair, eyes now fixated on Olyvar, giving him a look which he repaid in kind. "Now, child. You will tell me what happened." Robert was now addressing Arya. "Tell it all, tell it true."

Arya recanted the story of how she and the butcher's boy, Mycah, had been playing in the Ruby Ford. Olyvar heard the door open behind him and saw his uncle's steward enter with Sansa, who Olyvar had been told had also been present at the confrontation. She looked dejected, her eyes averted downward as to not make contact with another pair.

Arya had gotten to a part where she said she had disarmed Joffrey and thrown his sword into the river, at which the king's brother began laughing aloud. "Ser Barristan." The king addressed the Lord Commander. "See my brother out."

"You are too kind. I can find the door myself." Renly bowed before addressing Joffrey. "Perchance you can recall to me later how a girl three years your lesser managed to disarm you so easily. And with just a broom handle." Renly made his way towards the door, but not before catching Olyvar's eyes. The Lord of the Storm's End was smiling from ear to ear about the situation, but Olyvar kept his face stoic. He had never liked Renly Baratheon, who came off as far too superficial for his tastes.

"Joffrey." As Robert regarded his son, Olyvar turned his head back to observe. "Tell your tale. And tell the truth, boy."

Joffrey was pale as could be, recalling a very different set of circumstances where he had been viciously attacked by Nymeria on orders of Arya and Mycah. _A farce of a story if I've ever heard one. _When he had finished, the hatred in Olyvar further increased.

Robert sighed. "Gods, what do I do about this? He says one thing, she another."

"There was another present." Eddard Stark turned in Olyvar's direction. "Sansa, come here and tell them what happened."

Olyvar observed his cousin walk towards her father, carefully avoiding his gaze. That's when he realized it. _She's not going to speak truth._ Olyvar had observed her falling over Joffrey ever since the arrival in Winterfell, and even more so when their betrothal had been announced, much to Olyvar's dismay. Now, she was going to betray the truth and her family. _Sansa, please do the right thing. _He only hoped that his thoughts reached her.

"I-I don't know what happened." Olyvar closed his eyes and breathed heavily as his cousin spoke hesitantly. "It-it all happened so fast…"

"_Liar." _Olyvar opened his eyes to the scene of Arya tackling her sister to the floor, pummeling her before being separated by Lord Stark and Jory Cassel. Sansa looked terrified of her sister, pale as the snow that had been on the ground of the North.

"That child is as vile as that filthy animal of hers." The queen's voice brought Olyvar's attention back to the front. "Robert, I want her punished."

"Gods, Cersei, she's only a child. Children fight. Ned, discipline yours, and I will discipline mine."

"Joffrey will bare those scars for the rest of his life." Cersei reminded him.

"Aye, and perhaps they shall serve as a lesson." Robert looked grimly at his son before he rose from his chair and began to exit from the chambers. Olyvar sighed out in relief. It seemed as if nothing had come of the ordeal.

"And what of that direwolf?" Cersei was still looking for a scapegoat. _If she didn't get Arya, she will try her best to get Nymeria._

"There were no signs of it." Jory Cassel now made his voice heard.

"No? So be it?" Robert replied simply.

"No matter." Cersei turned darkly towards Lord Stark, voice eerily quiet, yet a gleam of triumph in her green eyes. "We have a wolf."

"No." Olyvar understood immediately and couldn't contain himself any further. _This is madness._

His uncle must have understood the statement as well. "Robert, you cannot allow this."

The king sighed. "Ned, I'm sorry, but it must be done. That direwolf is a savage beast, and it would have turned on your girls eventually. Better to get her a dog." By this point, the girls had understood the implications of Robert's words. Arya shrieked and Sansa begged, both requesting mercy for Sansa's direwolf, Lady.

"Like the dog you gave your son, Robert?" Olyvar's fury was now directed at his father's ward. He had never had issue with Robert Baratheon before this, but he could now understand why Lord Stannis had been so bitter towards his brother. "Is this the type of justice that the Eyrie instilled in you?"

"Silence boy!" The shout did not come from the man known as King Robert Baratheon. It could not have, it was too loud, too fierce. No, somewhere Robert had called forth his past self, the Robert that had fought Rhaegar only a short distance away from here. That was the owner of that prideful shout. "Do not speak to me of Jon Arryn!"

"Robert, please." Ned Stark was begging his friend now. "For Jon's sake. For the love you bear me and my sister. I beg you."

"I will hear no more, Ned. From either of you." The king's voice gave a tone of finality to the decision. Sansa's wailings for mercy, Arya's fierce curses, his uncle's pleas. None of it mattered to the once great Stormlord. The man Olyvar had once admired, the man his father had once considered like a son, was gone, the only remnant being the shout that he had been given by the king.

"Then do it yourself, Robert." Olyvar turned in surprise to observe his uncle. He had never heard Eddard Stark's voice ring with as much coldness as it currently possessed. "Or do you lack the courage?"

Robert Baratheon simply looked into Ned Stark's eyes, and left without uttering a word.

"Send for Ilyn Payne. Where is that wolf chained?"

"There is no need." Ned Stark stood tall, addressing the queen with steel in his voice. "I shall do it myself."

The queen looked upon him with suspicion. "You? Why?"

"Lady is of the North. She deserves better than a butcher." Olyvar heard the anguish in his uncle's voice, and soon saw why. Sansa's look surely would cut his uncle the deepest. "Olyvar." He stepped forward at his uncle's behest. "Take Arya to her chambers. Jory, take Sansa."

"Come now, little one." Olyvar took Arya under his arm as he guided her out, giving one last look to the triumphant queen and her prince, who was also smirking. He turned heel and guided Arya to the door.

"Lord Arryn." He stopped immediately as he was addressed by the queen. "You would do well to control that temper of yours. What would your father say?"

"Olyvar. Go, now!" His uncle's demanding tone had been enough to quell him from action. Despite his desire to voice his opinion to the queen, he continued the task his uncle had entrusted him with.

They were in the stairwell when Arya spoke again. "I hate them." Her voice was quiet, but fierce.

He looked down at her puffy red eyes, her cheeks still stained by the marks of tears that had fallen. "I know, Arya, I know." She had his sympathies as they continued together up the tower, Ayra clutching his cloak the entire time, his hand on her head.

* * *

A/N: A far cry from the usually passive Lord of the Eyrie, isn't it?

No questions were submitted, but I've noticed a great deal of Myrcella and Olyvar interest, and I don't feel like I've addressed that matching properly. Might have to do a Myrcella chapter one of these times to at least show you guys the dynamic of their relationship. Because honestly, even though I have plans for where this betrothal will go, I still haven't really sat down and thought about how they would interact myself.


	12. Princess of Westeros

Well, the thought of writing a short Myrcella chapter just drew me right back in. She is an interesting character to write, mainly because we don't know much about her personality other than what other POV characters describe her to be.

For those reading along with the canonical book chapters, this POV falls after 'GOT Jon III' and right before 'GOT Eddard IV'. That means that up from Eddard III, all chapters remain intact without any changes to them.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

Princess Myrcella rode in the carriage along with her mother and brother, Prince Tommen, who was upstairs in the second story. Usually Joffrey would ride along with them, but their father had insisted that Joffrey ride alongside him as the party entered King's Landing. _He's the crown prince, and he must act like it. _She recalled her father's words to her mother at supper the night previous , when they had assumed no one could hear them.

She was looking out the window of the carriage towards the back of the caravan when she caught sight of her betrothed, Olyvar Arryn. He was wearing the same blue cloak that he seemed to always wear, the same one that she had seen his father wear while he was Hand for her father. She missed the old man sometimes. He had always been very pleasant to her and Tommen.

_I wish you would cheer up, Olyvar. _Myrcella watched with sad eyes as her friend continued wearing the scowl that she had seen on him since the day after his cousin, Arya Stark, was found. She remembered her mother yelling about how Olyvar had treated Joffrey with disrespect. But her father simply waved it off as 'boys being boys.'

But to Myrcella, he was just being the same strong headed Olyvar that she always played with. The one who had taunted Joffrey whenever he had made a snide remark, often to her delight. She did not hate her brother as he did, but she did believe that Joffrey did need to be taught humility. But her mother and father never punish him, or any of them for that matter. The queen never allowed it.

"Sister." Myrcella looked to the other side of the carriage as her uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister, addressed her mother, who was sitting on the other side of the carriage. "We are approaching the gates of King's Landing."

"Thank you, brother." Mother said her words as pleasantly as possible, but Myrcella knew that she was still furious since finding Arya Stark as well. There had been a night when she had overheard her mother through the walls of an inn they had been staying in, cursing the Starks and their direwolves before addressing Father about her betrothal.

_I will not have Myrcella marrying that boy. He is too disrespectful of Joffrey, who will be king after you. Did you not hear the words he spoke to you as well? _Her words had been harsh, calling him things that Myrcella had never heard before. But her father continued being dismissive of her mother's angry condemnations.

_The boy is Jon Arryn's blood. He may have a little fighting spirit in him, but the boy will calm himself when he grows. Gods Cersei, he's not much older than Joffrey, give him time. _Myrcella returned her attention back to Olyvar, and saw that her father's Hand, Eddard Stark, was now riding alongside of him. It seemed as if Lord Eddard was speaking to his nephew, as Myrcella noticed the scowl that had been on the Young Falcon's face was disappearing. She was glad to see so. It took away from his more handsome features.

Talk throughout the camp had been related to whether or not their betrothal would continue to stand. Olyvar had decided to come to King's Landing with them instead of returning to the Eyrie, for reasons Myrcella knew not. But she didn't mind. She enjoyed having Olyvar at court, where he could play and talk with her.

But before her father had announced their pairing, she hadn't really given thought to being married to him. Yes, he was handsome, though not as handsome as she had thought his cousin Robb Stark to be. But she knew that he was very smart. He kept going on about that game that he always played with her uncle Tyrion on the ride to the North. A game that Myrcella wanted him to teach her when they had gotten back to King's Landing.

Myrcella could admit that she fancied the Lord of the Vale a little bit, and didn't see anything wrong with being his wife when they came of age. So why did her mother so desperately want her away from Olyvar?

"Mother." Myrcella began, still looking at Lord Stark speaking to his nephew. "Why do they say my betrothal with Olyvar is broken?"

There was a pause before Mother spoke. "Where do you hear that, sweetling?"

"The soldiers. Every night I keep hearing them whispering whenever I'm around. They keep speaking that you and father broke the betrothal." More silence greeted Myrcella's statement causing her to look at her mother. She was startled when she saw the queen's face shriveled up in an attempt to hide her anger. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as she usually was.

"Your…betrothal, hasn't been broken, sweetling. Although if you wanted it to-"

"No!" Myrcella basically shouted, startling her mother. "I mean…" she began again, struggling to find the words. "Olyvar is just so nice to me. He always plays with me, he talks to me."

"Sweetling, he is still young, and men can change over time. We can find other matches for you when you're older."

"Mother." Myrcella gave her mother an annoyed face. "Olyvar is really nice, and he's Lord Arryn's son. Shouldn't I have to marry him?" Memories of Jon Arryn standing alongside his son in the throne room flashed back to her. All the years they spent together at court. From everything her septa had taught her, it seemed only natural she would marry Olyvar.

Her mother took her hands. "You do not have to marry anyone that you don't want to, sweetling. I won't let you be used as something for your father to marry off."

"Wasn't your marriage arranged, Mother?" Myrcella saw her mother freeze for a few moments and looked deep into her eyes, so similar to her own. Finally her mother cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Yes, after the Targaryens were defeated, I was married to your father by my father. And although I admit that it hasn't always been easy, I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Why, Mother?"

"Because I have you three sweetlings to show for it." Her mother's face broke into a radiant smile as she tickled Myrcella, drawing hysteric laughter from the girl. "No more questions. We're nearly home." Her lips met Myrcella's forehead, kissing it before looking out her own window once more as Myrcella beamed at her.

She looked at her mother for a few moments more before turning her head and looking back out of the carriage. There, she saw Eddard Stark ruffling his nephew's brown hair before riding off, eventually passing the carriage to get to the front of the column. But Myrcella's eyes remained on her betrothed. _Myrcella Arryn. _She thought to herself. _At least the name sounds good._

* * *

A/N: Always interesting giving non-canon POV characters a chapter. Considering how she was described in the books, I feel like drew upon Myrcella's qualities pretty nicely. And sorry for the Cersei haters (myself being one of them), but I had to spare a moment to show the lioness had some humanity. At least towards her children.

I don't like giving romantic suggestion between pre teens and teens, even if the times and culture is different. But, considering that Myrcella was documented as having blushed at the sight of Robb Stark in Winterfell, I figured that giving her a 'fondness' of Olyvar wouldn't be a bad idea. Give me your thoughts on it in the reviews.

Question from the last chapter comes from KnightofHolyLight, asking 'Why did not Olyvar call of engagement already at that point? Was he perhaps bit too worried of his cousin at that point?'

Well, I'd think that the last thing on his mind was Myrcella, so you're right in thinking he was more worried about Arya at that moment. Also remember. "As High As Honor". It's unlikely to me that Olyvar, strong willed as he is for a soon-to-be 14 year old, is going to (in his view) dishonor his family by breaking the betrothal. He cares for Myrcella, albeit not romantically (yet?) and wouldn't want to hurt her feelings.

Also, the question as to why Olyvar diverted course to King's Landing instead of returning to the Eyrie will be explained. Just give it time. :)

P.S. Couldn't resist. Here's one little gem of an exchange that will occur later on in the story. Figured that, with all of the support you guys have been giving me, I might as well share it with you.

"And why would Olyvar Arryn dare to attack us?"-Cersei

"Where do I begin the list? He believes us to have been responsible for his father's death, he _knows _your son killed his uncle, we hold his cousins hostage, his dear aunt is surely attempting to convince him that I had something to do with trying to kill his other cousin, Joff is threatening his betrothal to Myrcella, and to sweeten the pot, he loathes Joffrey like Robert loathed Rhaegar Targaryen. Are those good enough reasons for you?" -Tyrion


	13. Eddard III

Damn I cannot get off of this thing. Every time I take a break, I find myself wanting to type more.

I'm happy to see that some of you gave good reviews to the Myrcella chapter of the book. Not sure if I'll do much more of her, but a lot of things can change leading up to ACOK time. This chapter takes place at an unspecific time before 'GOT Eddard V' All other original chapters are unaltered.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

Ned slouched in his chair, exhausted. He had suffered many a sleepless night since his arrival at King's Landing to serve as Robert's Hand. His own daughters had been at one another's throats, which created a hostile environment in his quarters that Septa Mordane had pleaded for him to aid in dispelling. The meeting with his wife in Littlefinger's brothel and the news that Tyrion Lannister had presumably tried to kill Bran increased his stress, as well as furthered his suspicion of the queen's family.

But all of these issues paled in comparison to another he was facing. His daughter's would eventually quell their tempers, and he would bring justice to the Imp, but Olyvar's behavior had suddenly become erratic and unfiltered. The boy had sent the majority of his forces, including his personal maester, back to the Eyrie to aid his mother and brother and had chosen to accompany the Starks back into King's Landing, despite Eddard's pleas for him to return home and begin ruling the Vale.

_I can't leave that boy out of my sight._ Ned knew that his nephew cared for his cousins, and was especially close to Arya. That was the reason he had decided to join them in King's Landing until the end of the tourney to be held in Ned's honor, after which he would sail back to the Eyrie with Lord Royce, one of his bannermen. But the memory of hearing Lysa's pleas come from the mouth of Cat haunted him. His nephew's encounters with the lions as of late did not help to ease Ned's mind either. Olyvar's temper had gotten the better of him too many times, and people were noticing. After all, what was stopping Cersei Lannister from clipping the wings of another falcon in her court?

He had talked to Olyvar before they had ridden ahead of the column into the capital. The boy had been in a particularly foul mood since the night of Lady's death, scarcely saying a word and brooding endlessly. Ned had told him that he would have to curb his public outbursts after they had returned to the capital. _Despite your feelings, you cannot act like that. The Lannisters will use it against you. _Those words had helped calm him for now. But with Joffrey Baratheon still acting like he was, Ned could not guarantee that Olyvar would heed his warnings forever.

A soft knock came at the door. "Enter." Ned commanded. Through the door came Lancel Lannister, the king's squire. He, like his cousins, had the traditional gold hair and green eyes that their house was known for.

"His Grace request an audience with you immediately."

_Gods Robert, at this hour? _Ned hung his head and gave a sigh. "Very well. Take me to him." Ned followed Lancel through the halls of the Red Keep, presumably on his way to Robert's chambers. The summon could have been for a number of things; to discuss how Ned's daughters were doing, to converse about the coming tourney, or perhaps about why Ned found it necessary to ride ahead of him by a day into King's Landing. Whatever the reason, Ned was sure that the conversation would turn into something less than pleasant.

Lancel opened a door, revealing Robert sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. On the table he sat by were two glasses and a large pitcher of wine. _Of course._ For once, Ned didn't mind that wine was readily available. He suspected that even he would need some on this night.

"Leave us." Lancel gave a bow before exiting. "Ned, sit with me my friend." Ned came to the table, taking the seat opposite of Robert. He watched as Robert poured him a glass of wine, handing it to him in almost a demanding matter before the king poured himself one, taking a drink before addressing Ned. "Ned, I've been troubled since the incident at the Trident."

"As have I, Your-"

"No. Enough of that 'Your Grace' madness, Ned. Talk to me as if we were back in the Eyrie. As if we were just boys."

"We aren't boys anymore, Robert." Ned took a drink from his glass, watching as his friend shot him a look. "Our youth has passed us by. Our job now is to help lead the youthful. We have no room to act like we once were."

Robert gave a small, spiteful laugh. "You always were too honorable, Ned." He took a larger drink from his glass this time. "But you are right, we aren't boys anymore. That nephew of yours is certainly making it known."

"I warned you in Winterfell that the boy had a strong will." Ned could tell that Robert remembered the words their mentor's son had spoken to him at Castle Darry. "He was not pleased by your decision at the Trident, to hand Lady over to your wife."

"He's a boy! Who is he to question his king?" Robert demanded. The mention of Olyvar questioning Robert back at Castle Darry had set him off into one of his rages. "What does he know of ruling? He hasn't even returned to the Eyrie to establish his reign."

"The boy's spirit is as unrelenting as yours, Robert. He's not going to adhere to your every whim like many that you have surrounded yourself with. I've seen your council, I've heard their tales. _Six million dragons,_ Robert?"

Robert shrugged. "What of it, Ned? It's just gold."

"That's not what Tywin Lannister or the Iron Bank of Bravos will say. What's that saying your wife's family holds so dear? A Lannister always pays their debts? Tell me, when do you think they're going to start collecting on their debts?"

"So long as Tywin's wife is queen and his grandchild is my heir, that old man won't do a thing!" Robert spat, so sure that he was right. "You only hold a grudge against them because you still don't like what they did to win the war!"

"There were other ways. Jon said so himself."

"Jon was too honorable, just like you." Robert finished his cup, pouring himself another one before continuing. "Yet Jon at least stayed by my side to establish my reign, to secure the Lannisters' support. While he did that, you fled back to your home in the North! When I needed you here!" Robert slammed his fist, looking at Ned with contempt. Eddard held his stoic look, despite his blood boiling.

"Yes, Jon did stay by your side. Cleaned up your messes, gave his son to your brother instead of sending the boy north to live with his family. And how do you repay him? Deny his heir his title as Warden of the East, allow your wife to trample on the boy's pride at every chance? He will not take these slights lightly, Robert. No one would."

"The boy will have to learn his place." Robert said grimly. "I promised my daughter to him-"

"A promise I hear your wife is trying to break. Will she convince you as she did about the matter of Warden of the East?" Ned felt his voice rising and becoming more heated. He opted to take a drink of his wine in an attempt to quell his rising temper.

"Would you blame me if I did?"

"If so, then I would have to ask you to break the betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey as well." Ned said frankly. _After all that occurred at the Trident, that should be the pairing that you should spend more time worrying about Robert_. "From what I've seen, Olyvar adores Myrcella, and she him. He speaks to her gently, he treats her with class. He seems like a perfect match for your house."

Robert gave a defiant look before sighing, his expression changing to one of defeat. "Gods Ned, I know you speak truth. Always have. Why must you always be right?" Robert took another large drink. "The boy is loyal and wise beyond his years, even I can admit that. Even if he is a bit too rash at times."

"He will grow, Robert. The boy has the same values as Jon did. He's simply needs to be a bit more refined, a trait that comes with time." Ned put his glass down, looking at Robert with a very hard gaze. "I know the boy. He will love your daughter when the time comes."

"That I do not doubt. Should he defend Myrcella with as much zeal as he defended that wild daughter of yours, I would sleep very soundly at night." Robert twirled his glass, watching as the wine swirled with it. "That boy would fight Ser Barristan if it meant defending his family."

"Not the wisest decision. But the boy's loyalty is unmatched, that I agree with. You would do well to call him back when he's grown. You could use him on the Small Council."

"Something tells me you want him here for your own reasons, Ned." The two shared their first laugh together in quite some time. It was refreshing. "Perhaps I should have just made him Warden of the East."

Ned gave him a look. "You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"No, no I haven't." Robert shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "The topic of it never came up. The boy simply assumed I had named him. Tyrion told me." Ned tried not to tense up, but couldn't help doing so upon hearing the name of his son's supposed killer. Robert did not notice. "They were playing that damnable board game when they discussed it. By that point, I had already named the Kingslayer."

"Robert." Ned began sternly. "You must reverse this decision. And not simply because it's Jaime Lannister. I can calm the boy down, but Lysa Arryn will be in a fury when she hears that her son has been passed over."

"It's too late for that, Ned. Maybe in a year I can reverse the choice when the boy is nearing of age. But not now, not after I finally rid myself of Cersei's complaints on the subject. Can I be allowed peace on this matter for a year?" Ned said nothing but looked down. Despite knowing that Olyvar was ready, he knew that nothing would change Robert's stance. Not now, at least. When he looked back up, Robert had finished another drink and was looking at him thoughtfully. "Say Ned, would you mind telling the boy in my stead? You always seem to know how to keep him calm anyways. You and Stannis, at least."

Ned sighed slightly. _You always did avoid these types of things, Robert_. But Ned knew the king's words were true, and it would help keep the boy under his watch. After all, whatever secret Olyvar's father had died for was now threatening the boy, and Ned knew that he would be in danger until his departure for the Eyrie. Until then, Ned would keep him close.

* * *

A/N: I feel like Robert, being uninterested in the administrative aspect of ruling, would have neglected telling Olyvar that he wasn't Warden of the West, and would naturally bestow Ned the honor of breaking it to him. Plus, the chapter's contents focus on the struggle between Cersei and Ned on influencing Robert, despite Cersei having no part in it.

We have two questions. First from our friend Spark She-Demon, who asks "Olyvar doesn't know that he's only Warden of the East in name yet, does he?" Think I answered that one in this update. :p

The second comes from Guest97, who asks "Is Petyr going to play a big part in this story?" Oh yes, Littlefinger is going to do as only Littlefinger does. And that is play the 'game' with the best of them.

Keep the reviews up, you guys fuel the story, and your opinions and discussions matter quite a deal to me. Thanks again!

* * *

A/N #2: This in itself is a rewrite. I must admit that there were some oversights from the original that I posted, and have taken the liberty of correcting them. The perfectionist in me demands it, I suppose. A thanks to OverseerBishop for letting me know.


	14. Olyvar IV

Enter the mind of a bitter soon to be fourteen year old Lord Paramount. This chapter falls some time before the Tournament of the Hand in no particular order, so you could likely place it at anywhere in the continuity so long as it falls after the previous and before 'GOT Sansa II', which is likely the next chapter I'll be updating/modifying.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

_How many more slights will he ask me to endure?_ He sat in his quarters alone, leaning on the arm that he had stationed on the table. He looked out of the window and down onto King's Landing. It was always so busy, it didn't matter if it was night or day. So many people, so little space. It was a wonder how housing half a million didn't send the place into chaos.

Olyvar's mind wandered endlessly, trying to find something to think about. But every time his mind came back to his recent conversation with his uncle, Lord Eddard, who had been sent to inform him of the king's _decision _to award the title of Warden of the East to Jaime Lannister, the infamous Kingslayer.

"Damnit." Olyvar grabbed a copper goblet from the table and chucked it across the room, letting his frustrations get the better of him. It was all he could do these days to channel his rage at the royals. _I live alongside of that man for fourteen years, and I get slighted. Am I the second coming of Stannis?_ He had heard the stories of how his mentor had held Storm's End for Robert during the war, and his reward had been to be shipped away to Dragonstone. Even if Olyvar was still inheriting the Eyrie, he now understood why his mentor had been so bitter towards the king.

It wasn't about giving the title to Jaime Lannister. In truth, he never minded the Kingslayer, despite the rest of his family's predisposition to him. He always went out of his way to mock, yes, but it was Jaime who slayed the Mad King in the midst of the war, sealing the Targaryen defeat and attempting to save thousands of lives. _What was more honorable than that? _It hadn't been Jaime that ordered the murders of Eila Martell and her children. That had been his father, yet Jaime was grouped in with all of the monstrous things that had happened. Olyvar didn't understand why.

The thing that had made him so angry was that his father's own ward was now refusing him the very thing that he had refused Stannis; recognition. The Warden of the East was a title that had been passed down from Arryn to Arryn for nearly three hundred years since Aegon's conquest. And now that line was to be broken, just because Robert Baratheon didn't have faith in him? Was he not Jon Arryn's son, the very same son that Robert had entrusted his own daughter to in the future?

But of course, his uncle had made his voice and opinion heard. At the point where Olyvar had been ready to follow his mother's example and depart for the Eyrie without giving proper farewells, cold Ned Stark had been able to quell his temper. _If you care about your cousins, if you care about your future wife, you will stay here until this foolish tournament has come to an end._ Those had been the words of Eddard that struck him hardest.

Olyvar had watched for many nights as Arya and Sansa dined without acknowledging one another. He continued to listen to Arya's complaints of Sansa's supposed blindness when it came to Joffrey's true nature. He could only pat his young cousin on the head and tell her that Sansa would come around eventually, unable to believe his own words.

And Sansa…Gods, he doubted that there would be any way for their relationship to heal in the near future. She believed that he had taken Arya's side, and had refused to talk to him unless her lord father commanded it of her. Even then, her voice was crisp, almost as cold as her mother's the night she had addressed Jon Snow with such venom. _Tully women have a way of cutting deep._ He thought to himself in silent bitterness.

A knock came at the door. _Likely Arya or Uncle. _"Enter." He called. But as the door creaked open, Olyvar was treated to another sight, for there standing in the doorway was a plump figure of average height. Only the hands were not covered by the gleaming gold robes, and they looked to be quite soft. And oddly enough, there was a scent of lilacs that accompanied the figure. But no sooner than Olyvar began trying to piece together the identity of the figure than it removed his hood, revealing himself to have a powdered face and bald head.

Lord Varys, Robert's master of whispers.

"Ahh, Lord Arryn. So nice to have you back with us at the capital."

"Lord Varys." _Don't ever trust that damn eunuch. _Lord Stannis' words rang in his ears. "Please sit. What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, my Lord." Varys said softly, taking the seat across from Olyvar. He was wearing a soft smile. "I've heard of the incident that occurred at the Trident. I assume that is the reason why you are back in the capital?"

"Why would that be the reason?" Olyvar was already in an annoyed mood, he did not need to be reminded of what had happened at Castle Darry. "Robert did nothing to affect me personally."

"Of course, but he did do something to your family, did he not?" Olyvar closed his fist tight as Varys continued smiling at him. "It seems that you take after your mother's words more so than your father's."

"Come, Lord Varys. You didn't come here to simply talk about the Trident or which side of my family I favor." Olyvar challenged the grinning eunuch. "What is it you are here for? I'm not in a mood to have trivial discussions, and I'm sure your time could be better used elsewhere."

"Quite right." Despite his fierceness, Olyvar noticed Varys continuing to talk in a pleasant tone. "I was simply curious as to what your mother told you before she fled back to the Eyrie."

Olyvar's eyes opened wide. It had been some time since he had time to think about that night, it felt a lifetime ago. But there was his mother, standing over top of him, shaking him to wake up. _Come Olyvar, come. We must flee. These lions will kill you. You have to come with me. _She had sounded panicked and hysteric, but Olyvar still refused her. He had needed to speak with Stannis, to obtain council. Not even his mother's curses moved him from that choice.

"Varys." Olyvar looked away from the eunuch and back out the window. "Why do you ask questions that you already know?"

"I tend to try giving those I question a chance to answer truthfully." Olyvar looked back to see Varys' smile had stretched across his face. "But it seems that you are all too aware of my games. No doubt Lord Stannis' tutelage."

_And don't forget that, eunuch. _"So, what am I to make of this? You come to me, asking a question I already know that you know the answer to. What's the purpose?"

"To make sure you know what you're up against." Now the eunuch's voice cut to a more serious tone, capturing Olyvar's attention. "Your lord father died for something secret, something that would tear the realm apart if given the chance. And it seems that your uncle is determined to uncover this secret himself."

"A secret?" This had been the first that Olyvar had heard of such a thing as a reason why the Lannisters would have ended the life of his father. "I don't suppose you know what this secret is, my lord?"

"I have suspicions, but I cannot share them with you. Especially not now, with you having challenged the Lannisters openly." Olyvar looked away in frustration, grinding his teeth. "You are already a target, one that your lord uncle the Hand has taken great care in protecting. He will not see Jon Arryn's son die, even if it means suppressing that spirit we're all aware you have and making you promise to control yourself."

"It does not matter. I won't be here for long." Olyvar looked back out the window at the city. "I am to leave in a short time, after the tourney is complete."

"Will you truly be able to?" Varys demanded. "You take great pride in your house, your family. Knowing that your father has been dispatched by the queen or the queen's men, can you truly go back to the Eyrie without feeling guilt for leaving your cousins and uncle at their mercy?"

Olyvar looked the eunuch dead in the eyes. "If what you say is true, then my uncle likely knows all of these facts as well. I need not complicate things further for him here. He will find the truth, he will honor my father."

Varys rose from the table. "Ned Stark is an honorable man. As was your father. But trust me when I say this, my Lord Arryn. Honorable men do not last long in this city."

Olyvar followed the Spider as made his way out of the room. His words had made him uncomfortable, but he had promised his uncle that he would depart from King's Landing without protest after the tournament. He had to return to the Eyrie, but after gaining support, we would come back to King's Landing.

He began thinking about the eventual trip back to Gulltown, giving it much thought. _I may have to stop at Dragonstone._

* * *

A/N: Different take on Jaime than the rest of the character's right? Maybe it's my personal views of Jaime being mixed in, but I wanted to give Olyvar a bit of a different view than the one his uncle possesses. Growing up at court, he doesn't see Jaime has being anything more than the man who killed Aerys, the very same man whose stories of cruelty Olyvar had heard throughout his life. He's like Robert in a sense that he doesn't really care how Jaime killed Aerys, just that he did so. It doesn't mean Olyvar likes Jaime by any stretch of the imagination, but he understands.

Meanwhile, Varys' mind games begin.


	15. Sansa II and Eddard IV

Combo chapter update! I wanted to keep the majority of the canon chapters intact, but of course that would be difficult considering the inclusion of Olyvar as a defining character in the books. Thus, I decided to include the edits of both 'GOT Sansa II' and 'GOT Eddard VII' in this update. For Sansa, everything before and after the joust between Ser Gregor and Ser Hugh remains intact, while for Eddard, everything before he has his meeting with Robert has changed, while everything after remain the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

As she watched the Kingslayer finish his opponent, Sansa looked around the stands to find Olyvar sitting alongside the Princess Myrcella, conversing with her about something supposedly humorous as Myrcella was laughing. She still remembered Olyvar's malicious words and looks, aimed at the king, queen and her Joffrey. He had taken Arya's side in the affair at the Trident, when Lady had been killed because Arya had been the same little monster she always was. She didn't understand how Olyvar could have sided with Ayra instead of her. _I suppose Arya was always his favorite to play with._ She thought bitterly.

But when Sansa saw him around Myrcella, it was as if he was a different person. He was polite, courteous and careful with her. Father had told her that was because they had lived together for their entire lives. _It's almost as if they were meant to be together, like the stories. _Sansa couldn't help but to feel a bit of happiness towards her cousin's betrothal, even if he didn't exactly show gratitude for it.

She turned back to see the participants of the next match. There was Ser Gregor Clegane, ready for his second joust of the day. He was a massive man, standing taller and larger than everyone in attendance. Riding against him was one of Olyvar's personal guard, a newly anointed knight that went by the name of Hugh. He had sworn victory in the name of Jon Arryn, Olyvar's father. Olyvar had simply given a smile and a wave, but Sansa had seen him carefully observe his knight's joust.

Sansa watched as the two rode against one another, horses galloping fiercely. And then it happened. Ser Gregor's lance rode up, striking Ser Hugh in the neck and piercing through the flesh. Blood spewed from the wound, and the knight of the Vale fell not ten feet from where Sansa had been sitting. He did not move, there was no breathing.

Jeyne had become so hysterical that she had to be escorted from the arena by Septa Mordane. But Sansa sat in shock, unable to process what had occurred. Then, a whisk of a cloak and the sound of footsteps rushed past her. She saw the back of her cousin's head as he briskly approached the scene, attempting to see if his knight could be saved. But Sansa knew before he made it to the grounds that it was all for not, as she watched her cousin hang his head whilst on a knee. Ser Hugh was most certainly dead.

The knight was but a stranger to her, but Sansa could not help but feel remorse for her cousin as he ordered his men to take the young knight's body away. She watched as he gave an abrupt bow to the king and Joffrey before giving another bow to his betrothed and leaving the arena. _He was a loyal knight to you, wasn't he Olyvar?_ She had seen the two of them conversing often on the Kingsroad leading back to the capital, and it seemed as if the two were friends.

After the body had been taken away, a servant boy came out with a spade to shovel dirt onto the spots where the blood had pooled the heaviest. After he had finished, the tournament continued on.

...

* * *

"I was told that nephew of yours stood over him for hours on end." Ser Barristan told Ned in a gravelly, sad voice. "I had come to see how the silent sisters had prepared him and stand vigil for the boy if necessary. You can imagine my surprise when I heard that Lord Arryn had sent them away. Told them that he would wipe the blood away himself before they could care for his knight."

"He feels responsible." Ned knew his nephew, and thus understood why Olyvar had acted as he did. "He was supposed to go back to the Eyrie after the Trident, but instead decided to return to the capital with us. He was worried over his cousins, and it led one of his men in the grave." Ned remembered Hugh's plain face from their travels to the capital. He often spoke to Olyvar of winning the tournament to honor Jon Arryn. "This one had been particularly boastful about wanting to compete. Look where it brought him.

"Knight's die, Lord Eddard. It is a fact." Ned looked at Ser Barristan. _He has aged since that day on the Trident._ The man was old now, one of the last remaining members of Aerys Targaryen's Kingsguard, the greatest of Robert's own. "Some of us don't get to die in the way that we want, but we understand it to be a risk that comes with the knighthood."

"This boy though." Ned looked upon Ser Hugh with sadness. He had been told that the boy had a mother in the Vale. What she would think when her son, still so young, was brought back to her dead? "He was far too young."

"For knighthood, Lord Stark?"

"For death." Ned covered the boy, who had been dressed in a fine blue tunic, sliver crescent moons lining some areas. The tunic had a high collar to hide where the Mountain's lance had pierced his throat. _Was he killed because of me? _"Did my nephew decree what would become of his vassal?"

"He had said something about taking him back aboard the ship tomorrow, when he and Lord Royce were to return to the Eyrie."

"Another fine decision. The boy grows more like Jon every day."

"You must be proud." Ser Barristan wore a soft smile on his face.

"The boy had impressed me to a great degree since his arrival in Winterfell." Ned thought about how Olyvar had grown. Once a boy who had been smaller than Ned's own daughter, he was approaching manhood at the same pace as his son Robb. _So much change in three years. _The thought made Ned feel older than he cared to admit.

Ned and Ser Barristan began to leave the body where it lay, the two of them heading towards the King's pavilion. It was said that Robert had caused a scene with his wife at dinner the night previous about wanting to fight in the melee. Ned wanted to hear for himself why Robert thought this to be a good idea. But as they crossed the yard, they came in contact with Yohn Royce, the bannerman that had sailed to King's Landing to have his sons participate in the tournament, as well as serve as the escort for Olyvar back to the Eyrie. "Lord Stark, Ser Barristan."

"Lord Royce." Ned shook the man's hand, noticing the ever greying hair on Royce's lined face and head. The man also had the most peculiar set of eyebrows. "I hear that you have spoken to my nephew."

"Yes, terrible thing to happen. But the boy seems to be taking it better than he had yesterday." Yohn Royce pointed towards the stands, where Ned saw his nephew conversing with his betrothed, the princess Myrcella. "Boy wouldn't speak while he was standing over his fallen knight. Quite grim."

"Indeed. The boy has been facing the issue of death more than most recently." Ned could see that Olyvar was wearing a public face as Eddard had asked him to, concealing what would have been scathing looks that would have likely been aimed at Joffrey, the Mountain, and anyone that cheered for them. _Or does Myrcella really have that great of an effect?_ "Nonetheless, I am happy that you shall be returning him to the Eyrie."

"I had actually planned on staying a bit longer in the capital. His Grace has told me of a hunt that he was planning in the near future, and mentioned he would like for me to be along with him. My sons shall accompany young Lord Arryn back to the Eyrie, and swear House Royce's loyalty in my stead."

"Very well then." Ned became a bit more apprehensive at the prospects of Olyvar sailing back if he was not going to be in the company of Bronze Yohn, but he had heard that his two sons were effective enough swordsman. They would do in protecting his nephew. "Now if you will excuse us, Lord Royce, we have to speak with the King." Royce bowed before Ned and Ser Barristan walked off to find the king once more.

...

* * *

A/N: No real questions were added that weren't answered in this one, but I do have a response for people who are questioning why Olyvar is not flying off the hinge by now. I can give two reasonable excuses for this.

1. Ned Stark is a cautious man, and he thinks that if Olyvar continues acting like he does, his nephew is likely for an early grave. To prevent that from happening, he takes great measure in curbing the public outbursts up until this point. King's Landing is a dangerous place, after all.

2. The boy doesn't continue being as fiery in public because he respects the wishes of his uncle and father's ward. He's soon to be fourteen and he is likely to be calmed down by someone he identifies as a father figure, i.e. Eddard or Stannis. Olyvar sees honoring his uncle's wishes as being more important at the moment. Yes, he's a thirteen year old boy, yes he angry and believes his pride is being trampled on. But would _you_ disobey Eddard Stark if he was your uncle? I know I wouldn't. :)

Next chapter will likely be another Arya POV as she and her family see the Lord of the Eyrie off. From there, its a bit of a race to see if Olyvar will arrive on time to be included in Tyrion's trial by Lysa and Catelyn.


	16. Arya III

This chapter takes place in the early morning after the Tournament of the Hand, occurring before 'GOT Tyrion IV'. It's a tad bit shorter, but I still think that it gets the message across. The next update will finally debut the Lord of Dragonstone talking with is disciple.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

She watched as the body of the fallen Vale knight was loaded onto the boat by some of Olyvar's bannermen. She had always found the knight to be nice, he had even opted to not tell her lord father when he had caught her and Mycah sneaking off back at the Neck. She hadn't even thanked him for that. Now, she wouldn't be able to.

"I don't suppose Robert is going to make it common knowledge that I'm not Warden until I'm clear of King's Landing?" She looked back to see her cousin conversing with her father. Olyvar's face had grown constantly grimmer since the Trident, when he had yelled at the king. His hair had grown to be quite unkept, and he was prone to throwing more dirty looks at Joffrey and Queen. But not once did he have a public outburst. Father had told him not to.

"I suspect that's his plan. Robert never minded doing as he pleased, but I feel as if your attitude towards him as made it difficult for him to say it publicly while you are at court." Father put a hand on Olyvar's shoulder. "I've done all I can to make him see reason, but it seems he is content with keeping to his decision"

"So it seems." Olyvar was bitter. The king had declined to see Olyvar off this morning. She had heard her father cursing the king, believing him to have gotten too drunk the night previous and choosing to sleep over seeing Olyvar off with the Starks. Arya hadn't heard her father get that angry since the Trident. "At least he felt guilty enough to not say it aloud while I still roamed his halls."

"Yohn wasn't too happy after hearing of it in private last night. Insulted the king to his face, left in a mood." Her father said quietly, drawing a smirk from Olyvar's face. "You should have heard him, the old man still has the same fury as he did during the Rebellion."

"He approached me this morning. Told me that it was an appalling decision which he wouldn't stand for." The two looked over to the boat, Arya following suit. There she spotted the Lord of Runestone, who was quite disgruntled as he continued to make sure all the necessary preparations for the voyage were made. "It's good that the Royces are loyal. Hopefully the rest of my bannermen will regard me as highly as they do."

"Considering you're the very image of Jon when he was youthful, I find that to be very likely." The two shared a laugh before Father pulled him in for a hug. "We will hate to see you go, but it's high time you returned to the Eyrie. Your mother and brother miss you."

"And I them. But I hate leaving all of you." Arya could hear the sadness in Olyvar's voice, which only attributed to her own.

"We will be fine, my boy. Trust me." The two parted and shared a smile before Olyvar nodded and moved on to Sansa.

"Goodbye, Cousin. I wish you a safe journey back." Arya wanted to punch Sansa as she curtsied. She had spoken to him in such a brisk manner, as if she didn't care for him. _You're so stupid, Sansa. _Her love for Joffrey was making her disregard her own family. She was forgetting who exactly had fought so hard for Lady back at the Trident.

Olyvar evidently sensed the tone in Sansa's voice as well, and figuring that she didn't want to embrace him, simply bowed to her and said "My lady." Then he came to Arya, who was looking up at him with a sad face.

"I'm going to miss you." She wanted him to stay, to come and watch her sword lessons with Syrio just once. They had been so preoccupied that she had rarely seen him outside of dinner. Arya regretted not going to the tournament and sitting with him for a final time and watching as the knights fought and jousted. She suspected she would have enjoyed herself if she was sitting by him

"I'm going to miss you too, wildling. Life won't be nearly as fun without you." He gave her a small, sad smile. She couldn't hold back any longer, and rushed forward to hug him at the waist. She didn't care if she didn't act like a lady, like her stupid sister. She wanted him to stay.

"Don't go, Olyvar. Please." Olyvar embraced her back, one arm on her back and another on her head. Flashbacks to her last meeting with Jon rushed to her mind. She felt tears beginning to form.

"Now, now. Don't be like that. You know I have to go back." He parted with her and knelt, looking into her eyes with a sympathetic look in his brown ones. "I promise, the next time I'm back in the capital, I'll have a surprise for you."

Arya sniffled and nodded, trying to hold back her tears. He had been her only friend in the capital after Mycah had been run down by the Hound. He understood her when Sansa and Father didn't, she could talk to him. Now he was leaving for the mountains of the Vale. Who was she going to talk to now? Who was going to listen?

He rose and turned. "Lord Royce, are we prepared?"

"Yes, my lord." The old man shouted in response. "Waiting for your word to depart."

Olyvar nodded before looking back to Arya, ruffling her hair. "Stay out of trouble, wildling. I won't be able to get you out of it all the way in the Eyrie." Arya swatted his hand away, a smile finally spreading across her face. "I promise to see you soon." With that, Olyvar turned and walked down the docks a bit before boarding the boat that would take him and the Royces back to the Vale.

Arya knew that he had to go. But as she watched him board, she wanted more than anything to go with. She had asked Father numerous times, each time being denied. He had told her that she would eventually grow to like King's Landing. But Arya wanted nothing more than to leave, to return to Winterfell or go to the Eyrie. The capital was dirty and vile to her.

"Gods grant you safe a voyage." Her father called out, waving a hand at the passengers. She knew that her father would miss him as well. He loved Olyvar like one of his own.

"And Gods watch over you, my dear Starks." Olyvar waved back. By now the boat was a fair distance away from the dock and out into the harbor. From there, Arya knew they would travel into Blackwater Bay before heading north towards Gulltown and the Vale. As she watched the boat continue on its voyage, she couldn't help but notice Olyvar, who had not turned away from the sight of his cousins and uncle on the docks.

"When will we see him again, Father?" Arya asked as she felt her father's hands rest on her shoulders, the boat fading from view.

"Soon, sweetling. Perhaps sooner than we think."

* * *

A/N: Poor little Arya. She lost what was her best friend in King's Landing. Shame that Ned refused her when she wanted to go to the Eyrie.

Question comes from KnightOfHolyLight, asking 'Is it public knowledge already about Jaime Lannister being Warden of the East?'

Up to this point, no. I made it so Robert would at least have the decency, or cowardice if you want to view it that way, to not disclose it publicly. I'll say that Lysa likely knew it would happen, but the rest of the Vale and realm would have likely assumed that Olyvar was old enough to be granted the title.

Also of note, I know that many were interested to see if Myrcella would be accompanying Olyvar to the Vale, considering their betrothal had not been called off yet. Some of you guessed right that she wouldn't be accompanying him there. I figured that Cersei would be too possessive to send her, as well as too spiteful to even see the Lord of the Vale off (if you didn't catch it in the chapter, Cersei and her cubs are absent as well).

Well, that will do it for this one. Keep the reviews coming, I enjoy reading them!


	17. Davos I

This was a tougher chapter to write than most. The anticipated buildup to Stannis and Olyvar meeting made me think that something big needed to happen in this chapter. But I didn't like the idea of putting it in Olyvar's POV, since I feel like a third party observer would be better suited. So, here comes the Onion Knight.

I'm having a tougher time establishing chronology these days, it's so tough to measure out exactly when something happened. I do know that this chapter does take place before 'GOT Sansa III', where Eddard has his epiphany about the Baratheon children, as well as happens before Tyrion's trial in "GOT Catelyn VII'

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

_Fifteen years. _Davos Seaworth thought to himself as he stood on the beach of Dragonstone, clutching the pouch around his neck that carried the tips of his fingers. They were chopped off by the man that Davos owed everything to; Lord Stannis of the House Baratheon. He had given Davos a life that the former smuggler could only have dreamed of. Lands, knighthood, and a name. A legacy for his family to pass on as sworn swords to the Stag.

It was because of these gifts that Davos had so readily answered the call of his lord when Stannis had summoned him to service once more. But when he had stepped foot on Dragonstone, apparently the last out of those Stannis had summoned, another raven had arrived, forcing Stannis to postpone the meeting. It had brought word that the new Lord of the Eyrie, Olyvar Arryn, would be making a visit to the holding of his old mentor.

Two days later, Davos now stood on the beach, watching as a ship hoisting the moon and falcon of the Vale approached their shores. Beside him was Stannis, serious and stone faced as he usually was, his dark blue eyes focused on the ship as well. He had told Davos that he was not aware why his disciple was making a visit, but was pleased nonetheless.

As the boat made port, a tall boy jumped out onto the dock enthusiastically, striding over towards them. The lad had the matching brown hair and eyes that Stannis had described him as having, with broad shoulders on a lean body. He wasn't as big as Stannis, but Davos thought that Olyvar would eventually outgrow him once the boy became a man.

"Lord Stannis." _A boy of higher rank still calls him 'Lord'. _Davos was amused. _It seems the tales of the boy's devotion to Stannis Baratheon are true_. Davos watched as teacher and student shook hands, the boy beaming at the stern face of the Stag. How he could keep a wide smile on when met with the cold gaze of Stannis was a mystery to Davos.

"We only received your letter two days ago. I thought you would be back in the Eyrie by now." Stannis questioned his former ward with a stone voice.

"Well, that was the plan. But I missed the capital so much, so I decided to extend my stay for a while longer. Besides, aren't you happy to see your dear ward once more?" The boy responded with a great amount of sarcasm, drawing a rare smirk from the Lord of Dragonstone. "I figured as much."

"Enough of your jests. Olyvar, this is Ser Davos Seaworth, the-"

"The famous Onion Knight." The awe in the boy's voice brought Davos to laughter. He had never had such a look like this thrown his way before. It was different for a former smuggler to be regarded with much amazement outside of certain circles.

"I am honored to be held in such high favor by a Lord Paramount. Thank you, Lord Arryn."

"Now that you two have been properly introduced, it's time we head inside. We're lucky that you have visited at the time you did, Olyvar. Come, bring your bannermen along with you. They will want to hear this." Olyvar gave a quizzical look at Davos, who merely shrugged. The Lord of the Eyrie motioned for an old man, introduced as the famous 'Bronze' Yohn Royce, before the party followed Stannis into his keep, leaving the smell of the sea behind them.

Never had Davos encountered a more intimidating and dark castle than the one of Dragonstone. Even in Storm's End during the Rebellion, where he had seen men feasting on the corpses of rats and the skin and bones of the starved, did not compare. The black stone the castle was built of, said to be crafted by Valyrian magic, had a frightful appearance.

"I never did get used to walking these halls." Lord Arryn said a tad apprehensively, Davos noticing that he was taking in the environment of the castle he had likely called a home once. "Lord Stannis, where is Shireen? I would like to see her while I'm here."

"You will see her at dinner tonight. For now, we go to the Chamber." The party walked briskly up the stairs towards the Chamber of the Painted Table, where it was said that Aegon the Conqueror had planned his invasion of Westeros. Davos had been impressed the first time he saw the room, remarking how accurate the map of the continent was.

As the chamber door opened, it revealed the long map of Westeros along with a few men sitting around it. These were men that Stannis had trusted enough to summon, though like Davos, they too were kept in the dark as to the reason. Stannis had been quite adamant about waiting for Lord Arryn, or as adamant as a man such as Stannis Baratheon could be.

"My lords, may I present to you Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone, and Olyvar Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, defender of the Vale, and the _true _Warden of the East." The last part had made the boy tense up ever so slightly. Stannis had informed Davos and the rest of the lords the night previous how his brother, the King, had denied the title to the Arryns, instead opting to hand it to his queen's brother, the Kingslayer. Perhaps the boy had now learned the truth as well.

"A slight that the King shall regret, I assure you." The bitter voice of Bronze Yohn responded in his lord's stead. Davos didn't have a great understanding of politics, but he was aware enough that people would take offense when they were denied what was rightfully theirs. After all, he had been witness to Stannis being slighted with the gift of Dragonstone instead of Storm's End. The only difference with Lord Arryn was that he had those who would appeal for him, where Lord Stannis did not.

"Lords Royce and Arryn, I must introduce you." Stannis began naming off the lords who were present in the chambers: Lords Guncer Sunglass, Adrian Celtigar, and Monford Velaryon, as well as the castellan of Dragonstone Axell Florent. Davos was more thankful for those missing than those who were present. He had no desire to see the red priestess today, or any day for that matter.

"We have answered your call, Lord Stannis, but we are still unaware as to what you have summoned us for." Lord Velaryon said as the four who had just entered took their seats around the table. Davos sat to Stannis' left, whist Olyvar sat across from him to Stannis' right. The boy had his arms crossed, but was observing with curiosity in his eyes.

"The true meaning of this is to be sure that those sworn to me are loyal. I am here to reveal a truth that very few could imagine possible. The truth of why Jon Arryn was murdered."

"Lord Arryn? Murdered?!" Lord Royce nearly sprung up from his chair, anger in his voice. "What proof do you have, Lord Baratheon?"

"My proof resides in the revelation of another horrid truth. A truth that the late Lord Arryn and I had taken great measures in researching the legitimacy of." Davos looked away from Stannis to see that the reactions of the Lords of the Vale different immensely. Whist Lord Royce had fury on his face, Lord Arryn only watched on, with sharp focus in his eyes.

"And what is this truth, mi'lord?" Axell Florent had now made his voice heard.

"The royal children are not of my father's blood. They are illegitimate and should not be considered in the line of succession." A collective gasp came from all except the young Lord Arryn, his only reaction being the widening of his eyes. "By that right, I am heir to the Iron Throne."

"What proof have you that this claim is legitimate?" Lord Velaryon asked suspiciously.

"Whilst researching, Jon Arryn came across a book that documented the lineage of every great house of Westeros. In it, we saw that every time in history, whenever a Baratheon had wed a Lannister, the resulting children were _always _with the same coal hair and blue eyes that are shared by my brothers and I. Robert's supposed children, however-"

"Green eyes, blonde curls. Each of the royal children posses them." The Lord of the Eyrie now spoke, drawing the attention of all away from Stannis' iron voice. It was a statement that was soft in tone, but hard on the ears._ The children, bastards?_ Even Davos had been dumbstruck. "I remember this book. It had been on my father's nightstand many a night when I went to visit him." Olyvar spoke once more, looking over to his mentor.

"If Robert were to die, he would be without a legitimate child to succeed him." Stannis continued with iron in his voice. "Because of this, I would succeed him by right."

"Lord Stannis, you must understand that many would only see this as you attempting to take the Iron Throne for yourself." Guncer Sunglass now spoke. "And even if we presented the King with this information, he would only dismiss it on those grounds."

"I have seen them. Lived with the royal children for most of my life." Olyvar Arryn began again, still as soft spoken as he was with his first statement. "I can assure you, if the findings of my father and Lord Stannis are true, then they are not Baratheons."

"A Lord Paramount backing the claim would aid in your claim, Lord Baratheon." Davos now spoke for the first time, deciding it was time to make his voice heard. "If we had the support of the Vale, we could act to ensure your succession."

"No, Ser Davos, I'm afraid that it is not that simple." Olyvar spoke apologetically. "Even if the Vale interfered on Stannis' behalf now, our numbers are too little. And even with my support, should we introduce this treason diplomatically, there would still be very little chance we could succeed with deposing Joffrey as heir. Robert has it in his mind that Joffrey is his, and his stubbornness will cause him to refute us." In this last statement Davos could sense bitterness and venom in the boy's voice, especially when addressing the crown prince by name.

"The boy speaks the truth." Davos turned back to Stannis to see yet another smirk, aimed at his ward. "My brother is a fool who will not see reason."

"Then what course of action is there?" Lord Sunglass demanded. "We cannot simply stand around whilst this bastard readies himself to assume the Iron Throne."

"We don't have to." Olyvar now addressed Lord Sunglass. "There is only one who can break through the King's blindness. My uncle, Lord Eddard Stark, is Robert's Hand. Should I send him a coded letter, I believe that he shall find out this revelation on his own, and reveal it to Robert. Despite their differences, they are close enough to which Robert will believe my uncle."

"A risky strategy." Davos did not like it, there were too many risks involved for his tastes. And being a former smuggler, he knew something of risks, as he clutched the bag which contained the bones of his left hand's tips.

"There is no other option." Stannis declared before others could interject, his voice icy. "The boy must go back to the Eyrie to establish himself, thus he cannot go himself. Besides, should either Lord Arryn or I step foot in King's Landing, Lannister assassins will surround us. If either of us dies, the truth dies as well." Stannis now looked back in Olyvar's direction again. "I will have you write the message here and send it tonight before dinner."

"Yes, Lord Stannis." _Utter devotion and loyalty. Amazing._ Davos had never seen someone take to Stannis like young Lord Arryn did, save perhaps the red witch. He had felt apprehensive about taking action at first, but upon looking at the confident and serious faces of the mentor and pupil, Davos felt there was a good chance this plan of theirs could succeed.

"Then we are committed." Bronze Yohn said with confidence as well. The Lord of Runestone seemed to be just as devoted to his lord as Lord Arryn was devoted to Stannis. "My lords, I advise that Lord Arryn depart on the morrow as well. The sooner we can obtain the oaths of fealty from the other houses, quicker we can rally the Vale should something go awry."

"Agreed, Lord Royce. I must be established if I am able to call my banners should we fail." Olyvar Arryn said sternly, leaning back in his chair and looking at the table, Davos noticing that his eyes were specifically targeting the portrayal of the Vale. "Let us hope that it does not come to that."

* * *

A/N: And so the truth is revealed...for Olyvar, Davos and Yohn anyways. We will have to see how this plan works out in the end. Davos sure has his doubts. No Melisandre in this chapter. I don't have plans to include her until we get into ACOK territory anyways. You can just play her absence off as her and Lady Selyse being off somewhere, discussion whatever those filthy fire worshipers discuss :)

No real questions posted from the previous chapter, but here's something to think about. With this revelation, Olyvar now knows that not only Joffrey, but Myrcella and Tommen are bastards. How's that going to affect his thoughts about them? If at all? A certain betrothal comes to mind...

Thanks for the reviews guys. As always I appreciate them and am happy that you guys are contributing opinions and reviews. Hope to keep making great chapters for you all to read. Cheers.


	18. Eddard IV and Catelyn I

Well, back at a rapid pace I suppose. Not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep this up. But like I said before, why stop a good thing? This update is broken up into a smaller Ned posting and a longer Catelyn section.

The Eddard chapter can simply be considered an add on to 'GOT Sansa III', only it's in Ned's POV and occurs after the girls are taken away.

In regards to where the Catelyn chapter falls, I would say it falls before Cat, Rodrik and Blackfish depart as well as before Ned Stark's imprisonment. So it would fall right after 'Catelyn VII' and before the information of Ned's capture becomes common knowledge.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"He is _not! _He doesn't even look like that drunken old king!"

It all came flashing forward, and everything had become clear all at once. The death of Jon Arryn, his mentor's investigation into Robert's bastards, Stannis Baratheon's involvement. All was revealed to Eddard. "_Gods," _he said, astonished. "Out of the mouth of babes…" He quickly summoned Septa Mordane. "I am going to arrange for a fast galley to transport you to Gulltown. I will send a letter to your cousin to make sure that he arranges for an escort to Winterfell." Olyvar was the only one that he could now trust with making sure the girls made it there without issue. There were too many dangers and enemies in the capital. _The secret. _Ned thought to himself. _Jon, is this the answer? _"Syrio may join you should he continue to serve me, but these plans _must stay secret._"

"Does this mean that we'll be seeing Olyvar again?!" Arya asked, beaming. But Septa Mordane whisked them away before he could answer. Eddard began to walk out of the room as fast as his bad leg could allow him to, but before he could make it to his own chambers a knock came from the door.

Terrified, Ned steadied himself. "Enter." He said. From the outside of the door came a single man Ned had not recognized from any time before.

"Lord Stark, I have a letter that has been addressed to you." The man procured a sealed envelope, marked with the seal of Dragonstone.

_Stannis?! _"When did you receive this?"

"The bird came from the Northeast just an hour ago. I apologize for having been so late in its delivery." His excuses did not matter to Ned. Only the letter was of interest, and as the man stretched out his hand, Ned took the scroll perhaps a bit too eagerly.

Opening it, Ned began to read. But he was surprised to read that this letter was not from Stannis Baratheon, but his nephew Olyvar, who informed that he had stopped at Dragonstone to visit with his old mentor. The majority of it was nothing more than writing about his adventure at sea and wondering how Ayra and Sansa were. _How you would lament at their state now, Olyvar._

But just when Ned figured the letter was of no consequence, he found it. The line that helped reinforce his own suspicious and fears. His nephew had written how he was missing his father, and asked Ned if he still had the old book that his father always seemed to have around him before his death.

Ned knew what his nephew was referencing; the book he spoke of was the same book that Ned had now. The old book that Maester Malleon had written, documenting the lineages of the noble houses of Westeros. The book, in combination with Sansa's simplicity and Olyvar's veiled message, reassured Eddard that he had found the truth. _They're not Robert's children. _"Thank you. You are dismissed." The messenger bowed and exited. Ned made his way to his quarters, but not before burning the letter. He now had all the proof he needed.

Stannis Baratheon had spent a great deal of time with Jon Arryn before he fled to Dragonstone. But Ned had always attributed this to the fact that Olyvar was Stannis' ward. But now he understood, the two of them had been investigating together, likely using OIyvar as a pretext for their meetings. A horrifying question came to Ned's mind. _Stannis, have you told the boy the truth?_

* * *

"Are you ready, Uncle?" Catelyn looked back to her uncle Brynden as they, along with Ser Rodrik, waited in the Crescent Chamber for young Mya Stone to guide them back down to the Gates of the Moon before they set off for the North to regroup with her son. They were in need of men to help Edmure defend the Riverlands from Tywin Lannister's army, but her sister Lysa had not permitted the raising of the Vale's forces to do so.

"I've been ready since we made it into this chamber, my dear. If that girl would ever make her way up here, we could be off for the North." He was irritated, still angered with his other niece about not answering the call of aid from the Riverlands. "What is taking that girl so long?"

Tensions were high in the Eyrie since Tyrion Lannister's trial by combat. The Imp and his champion, the sellsword Bronn, had bested Ser Vardis and embarrassed Lysa. Her sister's actions as regent had put Catelyn in an uneasy situation, and she hoped that Olyvar would return soon. Last she heard from Ned, her nephew had returned to King's Landing, much to Lysa's terror. Catelyn had tried to calm her by saying that Ned would keep Olyvar safe, but that did not help to dispel the paranoia in Lysa's head.

"It's best to be patient, Lord Tully." The nervous Maester Colemon now approached them, being sure to keep his voice quiet so only they could hear. "Besides, the more time you spend here, the more time we can stall until Lord Arryn returns."

"Sheer madness." Ser Rodrik chimed in, looking and sounding none too pleased with the situation. "The way your sister treats that boy of hers. Forgive me my lady, but it is most unsightly."

"Olyvar is stronger than that brother of his." The Blackfish scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lysa will not be able to manipulate the boy like she does Robert." Catelyn's mind flashed to when her sister had taken young Robert, now six, to her breast to feed. She had been shocked, as even her Rickon had been properly weaned before he reached his third year.

"Indeed. Lord Arryn's return will be a welcome sight for all here in the Vale." The nervous maester began speaking once more. "He must establish his rule over the Vale before his mother does something else so foolish. Now the Lannisters are burning her homeland, and she fails to raise her hand to stop it. War has come."

_All because I assumed Tyrion's guilt. _Guilt swept over Catelyn as she thought back to her folly. But there was no time to dwell. They needed to return to the North, to raise their banners in defense of the Riverlands. "She is taking her sweet time about getting up here." The girl, Mya, had been sweet and supporting enough, but she still had not arrived, despite the raven having been sent down some time ago. Catelyn was getting desperate. _Could she have fallen from the path? No, _she thought, _not Mya._

Suddenly, as if the walls of the hall had heard the complaints of her absence, the doors from the outside opened, revealing Mya Stone to be leading a group of individuals into the Crescent Chamber. "Mi'lady, I apologize for my truancy, but I do believe I have a good excuse."

Catelyn, however, was looking past her, and saw the reason before Mya could have explained. "Olyvar." She gasped. The boy had seemingly grown another inch in height and four inches in hair. She rushed forward to embrace him, holding him tightly. "Thank the gods you have returned here when you did."

"Aunt Catelyn?" The boy was obviously surprised that she was here in his home. "Why are you here, in the Eyrie?"

"I had visited King's Landing to warn your uncle that there had been an attempt on Bran's life. He's fine." She continued, not allowing the shocked Olyvar to speak a word. "The assassin was thwarted, and I visited a friend of mine who knew the origins of the dagger. Perhaps you're familiar with Petyr Baelish?"

"Littlefinger?" Olyvar commented, apparently still in shock over the sight of Catelyn and the statement she had presented to him. "Of course I know him, he's the Master of Coin."

"He informed me that he had lost the dagger that the assassin had tried to kill Bran with in a bet to Tyrion Lannister." Catelyn attempted to slow her words, noticing she was speaking frantically. "At an inn in the Riverlands, I came upon him in a chance encounter. I took him prisoner, and brought him here for a trial." She could tell that the boy had a lot to digest, and she felt guilty that he had only just stepped into the entrance to his keep before presenting it to him. But the situation was dire, and this was her final chance.

"What happened?" Olyvar inquired, attempting to regain his own composure. "The trial with Lord Tyrion, what happened?"

"Your mother, she….Lysa acted brash. She would not allow Lord Tyrion a fair trial, nor wait for you to return to hear one. It was settled in a trial by combat, with Tyrion being favored. His champion, a sellsword who had accompanied me here, defeated Ser Vardis Egan. They walked free only three days ago."

Olyvar looked to his side cursed. "Damnit, I shouldn't have stopped." He looked back into Catelyn's eyes. "Where is my mother now?"

"She sits on your seat in the High Hall, entertaining suitors." She noticed that Olyvar did not take well to this news. "But there are more dire things to discuss. Tywin Lannister is attacking the Riverlands in response to Tyrion being taken as a prisoner. Your uncle Edmure has requested aid, but your mother has denied us."

"Lady Lysa had no right in denying aid from the Vale." Catelyn turned to now see a man she recognized as Yohn Royce, accompanied by two others who looked to be his sons. "She should have raised the banners by now to defend her kin in the Riverlands."

"What we have been attempting to get her to do, Lord Royce. But my niece is stubborn, and sees no reason to defend her kin from the lions." The Blackfish spat, anger in his words. "But now our young Olyvar is here, and can overrule her."

"Olyvar, I beg you." Catelyn began to plead, looking back to her nephew before he could speak. "Save Edmure from my mistake. I beg you."

The boy stared at her with a blank face for a few moments. Then, something miraculous happened. Something that Catelyn had not been expecting of the boy. "Maester Colemon, prepare the ravens and assemble all the available scribes we have. Fly a message to all of the lords of the Vale, and have the messages say that I will have them pledge their allegiance on the battlefield." He looked to Yohn Royce next. "I hope that you shall stand by me as one of my generals, Lord Royce. I will need assistance."

"Of course, my lord Arryn." Bronze Yohn puffed out his chest. "I shall serve you as I served your father in the Rebellion."

Olyvar nodded before addressing the Blackfish. "Uncle, I trust you shall aid me as well?"

"Although I resigned my post as Knight of the Bloody Gate, I suppose I shall help in helping to lead the forces of the falcon." Brynden Tully grinned. "When I return from marching your aunt to the North and obtaining additional forces, I will return to your command, nephew."

"Good." _Gods, when did he become so much like his father? Like his grandfather?_ She could remember as a girl when her father had talked with such authority as this, and back at Riverrun when she had married Ned, she could overhear Jon Arryn giving commands to his soldiers. Was this really the same timid Olyvar she had once known?

"Mya, stay here. I only intend for there to be one more trip down the mountain, but first I must go see to my mother." The boy's eyes were sharper than the edge of the knife Catelyn had shown Petyr. "Maester, you must come with me as well. Before you send the ravens, I wish to know how far you've come in completing the task I assigned for you before we parted."

"Of course, I shall lead you to her, mi'lord." Colemon and Olyvar walked off towards Lysa's apartment. Catelyn was left speechless at the show of command he had orchestrated. _Is this Stannis' doing?_ She had once been outraged that Ned had not been picked to be Olyvar's guardian, but now she was not so sure that Jon Arryn had made the wrong choice in an educator.

"The boy has grown." Brynden remarked with a smirk, looking on as the boy walked out of the hall. "Jon Arryn reborn, I can already see it in him."

"Lord Tully, perhaps we should begin discussing our strategy. You know the Riverlands better than I."

"Indeed. Come, somewhere in this keep are maps of all the regions of Westeros. Surely we will be able to find you one of the Trident and Riverlands in there." As the Blackfish and the Royces stalked off, Catelyn was left alone in the Crescent Hall. Olyvar's response had been swift, and would only serve to further his newfound authority. Lysa would not have an easy time manipulating her stronger, older son.

"Lady Stark, does this mean the Vale is at war?" Mya asked nervously.

"I do believe so, dear." Catelyn looked from the girl back to where nephew had stalked off. _I began this. Eddard, my love, be safe. Please protect our girls._

* * *

A/N: Well well, seems Olyvar has been drawn into war earlier than expected. So close to a reunion with Tyrion, yet so far away.

A question posed by a guest asked how Jaime, a member of the Kingsguard, can be granted a title since members are forbidden to hold titles?

Technically, warden is not a title that is inheritable and has no purpose outside of an invasion occurring from one of the four directions. It's purpose is to give absolute authority of the army to that particular warden (i.e Starks of the North, Lannisters of the West, Tyrells of the South, Arryns of the East.) should an invasion occur. Outside of that, its an honor and prestige issue.

As for those who might be wondering why Olyvar did not lose his established temper in the previous chapter, I'd like to call that the 'Stannis Effect.' Olyvar was likely punished for acting out, so he decides to keep his emotions under control whilst in the presence of his mentor.

Keep reviewing guys, hope you keep enjoying the updates.


	19. Olyvar V

I believe that this chapter can run concurrent with 'GOT Catelyn VIII', when she and the Blackfish unite with Robb at Moat Caillin. We have an Olyvar POV, as we watch the young Lord of the Vale wait for the rest of his army to amass. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

He stood at the opening of his tent, overlooking the vast fields that would lead them into the Riverlands. It felt like a lifetime ago since he had traversed the Kingsroad back down to King's Landing with his uncle and cousins. He had admired the beauty of the rivers that ran through the appropriately named region, but now detested them after being informed of the obstacles they would pose.

_Damnit all. _It had been a week since Olyvar had called his bannermen to the defense of his grandfather's lands, and they had only assembled less than half of the near sixteen thousand that Lord Royce had estimated would join them, encamped at the base of a mountain off of the high road to avoid being detected just yet. Both men, as well as the rest of his commanders, knew that they could not face Tywin Lannister with such a small force.

"My Lord." Lord Royce approached him, flanked by his son Andar, another commander in Olyvar's army. "The Hunters have arrived. They have brought a thousand foot soldiers, and two thousand archers."

"Good, we will need them." Olyvar had heard how the Hunters had the best archers the Vale could offer. If they were going to compete with Tywin Lannister, they would need to have the range advantage. It was his first time going to war, and although he had commanders such as Yohn Royce, Olyvar still felt nervous.

"You seem troubled, my lord." Yohn said with a hint of concern. "Does the issue that occurred back at the Eyrie still plague you?"

"It's more than that, but yes that's one of the principal things that have haunted my thoughts as of late." By the time of his arrival, the Eyrie was in a great deal of turmoil. His mother had rejected the calls from his uncle Edmure, something which the Blackfish had been none too pleased with. When he saw her, she was sitting in his chair, Robert on her knee as she was entertaining a number of lords who were vying to be her suitor. It had angered him to see that his mother was more concerned with finding another husband than to defend her family.

"Was I too brash, Lord Royce? Were my words too full of venom?"

"From the words your lady aunt, Maester Colemon and the Blackfish spoke of regarding the occurrences in the Vale during your absence, you were justified in your actions." Olyvar thought back when his mother had tried to greet him with pretty words, only to become hostile and defensive when he had chastised her for not defending her family. When he informed her that he had overturned her ruling and called his men to arms, she had attempted to regain control by asserting that Olyvar was not well and told the guards take him to his quarters. The guards, however, did not answer her call when Olyvar threw them a daring gaze.

He was angered by his mother's ridiculous actions, but what had infuriated him was when his younger brother Robert began reaching for his mother's breast. To his shock and outrage, his mother openly fed the boy in front of everyone, no shame on her face or in her voice as she explain herself. _My Sweetrobin must eat. Yes, there you go sweetling_. From there, Olyvar could not remember all of what he had said, but remembered that he demanded his mother be separated from Robert and held in her apartment until he returned to the Eyrie.

_Mother?! _The screams of his brother haunted his memory of the ordeal, as Lysa Arryn cursed Olyvar for separating them. Then, the shaking began. Robert's little body began to slip out of his control as he shook harder and harder on his own, unresponsive to Olyvar's pleas for him to calm down. Eventually, Maester Colemon had taken him to his own chambers, giving him a particular medicine that helped control the shaking.

"The business in the Vale will be sorted out upon my return." Olyvar drove the memory from the front of his mind, running his hand through his hair. "That is not our primary concern at the moment. The Lannisters have an advantage on us. They are organized, and they have hostages." The first letter had come from King's Landing, addressed to his mother instead of himself. _Another slight. _In it, it stated a revelation that changed their present situation. King Robert was dead, succeeded by Joffrey with Cersei ruling as Queen Regent. The next letter had come a few days later, in which it declared his uncle, Lord Eddard, a traitor, and that the Starks, Arryns and Tullys were commanded to tip their banners and swear fealty to Joffrey.

The worst part of the letter was that it was in Sansa's handwriting.

_Does she love Joffrey so much that she would betray her family?_ Olyvar attempted to drive the thoughts out of his head. _No, you fool. She's a hostage. She's being used. _"Lord Arryn." Yohn's voice drew his thoughts away from Sansa. "We have to discuss what your thoughts are on our current strategy."

"What do you mean?" Olyvar asked, a bit of annoyance in his voice. "We are gathering our forces, going to fight Tywin and liberate the lands of my grandfather."

"And when Stannis finally calls upon you, as he said he would?" Yohn raised an eyebrow. "We are still a ways from King's Landing, my lord. And dealing with the Lannisters in the Riverlands will prove time consuming."

"Stannis can make due with the Stormlands until we expel the lions from the home of my grandfather. We must lift the siege of Riverrun and make sure the Lannisters don't take further control. Is there any word from Robb?" He had kept constant ravens with his cousin on their respective positions. Robb's last letter had come just south of Winterfell, stating that he was marching for Moat Caillin, a fort just above the Neck.

"None, my lord. But your aunt said that when she reached the fort she would make sure to inform you of the North's plan."

"If the maps are right, there's no way they cross the Trident anywhere but the Twins. Walder Frey's domain." Olyvar knew that his voice reflected his mistrust in the old man. Ancient and even more toothless than his own father had been, the stories of Walder Frey's reliability, or lack of, had not gone unheard by his ears.

"Aye, he's not an easy man to negotiate with, that one." Andar voiced his own mistrust of the Lord of the Twins. "Gods know what he will demand of them. Him and his damn tolls."

"Regardless of what Lord Stark does, we must act once our full forces arrive." Yohn declared. The Vale had been experiencing inclement weather since the ravens were sent, and that in combination with the mountain paths throughout the Vale made it difficult for the lords to arrive with their soldiers in a timely matter. Without the weather, all of the houses would have likely made it by now. "I suggest we send scouts forward, and attempt to take the Ruby Ford should the enemy be on the western side of the Trident. It would prevent Tywin Lannister's forces from crossing in the south, keeping them on the western half of the Trident."

"We will have to speak with all of the lords when they arrive." Olyvar knew that it was a sound strategy that his general had advised him of, and that the rest of the Vale lords would approve of it. What he was more concerned about was convincing them that they were going to war in the name of Stannis Baratheon. Olyvar knew that Stannis was not the most popular man in all of Westeros, and convincing them of his claim being rightful would be difficult. "Any word from the Eyrie?"

"Maester Colemon has assumed the regency and is working alongside Lord Nestor just as we planned. Colemon has also taken over guardianship of your younger brother, and is attempting to cure whatever ails the boy." Olyvar nodded to Yohn before returning his gaze to the fields. He would have liked to send Robert to either Stannis or to Winterfell, but both were ruled out as options. Winterfell was too cold for Robert now, and Olyvar would not risk his younger brother's abduction whilst sailing to Dragonstone.

"Any word about my mother?"

"Nothing for you ears to hear or your eyes to see, my young lord." Olyvar hung his head as he heard the words come from Yohn Royce's mouth. He felt the man put his hand on Olyvar's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my lord."

"Lord Arryn!" A shout came from the back of their tent, and as Olyvar turned he saw that a young soldier was rushing up to them. "Lord Arryn! House Belmore has come to your aid. They have brought four thousand men! Lord Belmore seeks an audience."

"Wonderful. Go back and send him then." Lord Belmore was a man that his father had spoken highly of. Olyvar was excited to finally meet the Lord of Strongsong, whose relative, Ser Marwyn, was the captain of the guards at the Eyrie. Moments later, a fat man of average height approached them. On his armor was the sigil of House Belmore, six bells on a purple field. Olyvar could only assume this was Lord Belmore himself.

"Ahhh, so this is the young Lord Arryn." The man sounded amused as he took Olyvar in. "You look like what I would expect your father would look like as a youthful man. Little bit of that Tully coloring, but you certainly have his eyes."

"Lord Belmore. I thank you for answering my call. We are in desperate need of manpower."

The fat man gave a nod, stroking his greyish-red beard. "May we sit, young lord? I am most tired after the journey." Olyvar nodded, and all four men sat around a table that Olyvar had set up in his tent. "Shame that it had to come to this. War engulfing the realm once again. Terrible, terrible." The man reached for a cup and poured himself a bit of wine. "So, have we a plan?"

"We believe attempting to take the Ruby Ford before Lannister forces cross is our most effective strategy." Lord Royce addressed Belmore with the strategy." Should we establish ourselves on the banks of the ford, we can prevent Tywin Lannister from crossing and wreak havoc on the opposite side of the Trident. Should he try to cross, he will have to deal with archers the entire time."

"Indeed. I suppose the Blackfish has informed us of this key crossing?"

"My uncle was able to procure a map from the Eyrie." Olyvar remembered that Brynden Tully had not taken longer than half an hour before returning with a complete strategic map of the Riverlands. "He has opted to return to the North with my aunt and regroup with my cousin, Robb Stark, at Moat Caillin. From there, they will drive down south. Our mutual goal is to liberate Riverrun and drive Lord Tywin back west before turning attention to King's Landing."

"And what, my lord, will prevent Joffrey from raising his own army and sending it to attack our back whilst we deal with his grandfather?" Lord Belmore looked upon Olyvar with curiosity. "Surely we cannot leave the rear open."

"With the knowledge of Joffrey's illegitimacy, the Stormlands will rally to King Stannis. From there, we have King's Landing and the Lannisters surrounded. Mace Tyrell will join our side once he sees that we have superior numbers. From there, we remove Joffrey from power, and place Stannis on the Iron Throne."

"This is a good plan. Very well thought out. But I must ask, Lord Arryn." Belmone leaned in towards Olyvar, speaking with a grim tone. "Have you ever considered what might happen if the Stormlords declare for Renly in place of Stannis?"

Olyvar was dumbstruck by the suggestion. Never once had he considered anything of the sort. He knew Renly to be an ambitious man, yes, but he figured that he too would rally to Stannis' causes, especially with Stannis lacking a male heir. Renly would likely be chosen to serve that purpose until Stannis conceived a son.

"I doubt the Stormlands will declare for Renly Baratheon when they see that the North, Vale, and Riverlands have all declared for Dragonstone." Lord Royce said smugly. Olyvar was glad that he answered, for he could not find an answer to Lord Belmore's question. "Once we gather all of our forces, we will have the most powerful army in Westeros."

"Indeed. It's likely when news spreads that we are declaring for Stannis, the Stormlords will be sure to support him as well. Gods know what he will do to them if they betray him." _Likely throw them off the cliff at Storm's End. _Olyvar thought to himself grimly, believing it to be a high possibility.

The men continued discussing battle plans, Olyvar simply observing and voicing his opinions whenever asked for them. He was new to war, but not to strategy. The games of cyvasse with Tyrion had helped to teach him that, but he also understood that it had simply been a board game, where in war his playing pieces were the lives of men who had answered his call willingly. He could not make any horrendous mistakes, or men would die. His uncle and cousins would die. He would die.

Lost in the discussions of war and strategy was the fact that today was his fourteenth nameday.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, I deprived you of the actual confrontation between Lysa and Olyvar. Have faith in me though, the major confrontation between the two will come in time. For now, I wanted to focus on the preparations being made. And I believe that his chapter has answered every question that had previously been posed in the last batch of reviews.

Also, Happy Nameday Olyvar Arryn. :)


	20. Catelyn II

Getting a bit better at establishing the chronology again. Thankful that this one was a bit easier than most. This Catelyn chapter comes before 'GOT Bran VII', where Catelyn and the combined forces of the Tullys, Arryns and Starks are all meeting in Riverrun. Hope you guys enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

It had barely been a day after their forces had lifted the siege of Riverrun when the banners of the crescent moon and falcon had arrived. Catelyn was relieved that Olyvar's forces had slipped behind Tywin Lannister as they were engaged north of the Ruby Ford. Their plan had served not only to distract Tywin so that they could ride on Jaime Lannister, but also created an opening where Olyvar momentarily gained access to the Ruby Ford without a fight. Now, the combined forces of Stark, Tully, and Arryn were assembled in one place, blocking the Lannisters from their home. Nearly fifty-five thousand men, together all at once. The Seven truly did smile upon them.

Robb, Edmure, and Olyvar had all taken to the private chambers above the Great Hall, discussing what their next move should be. Commanders such as Theon Greyjoy, Bronze Yohn Royce, the Blackfish, Greatjon Umber, Lord Belmore of Strongsong and Tytos Blackwood joined them. Catelyn sat amongst them, listening intently as they planned their next move. Rickard Karstark had not joined them, still in mourning over the lost of his sons.

"We must march south at once." Lord Royce declared. "With the numbers we have assembled now, in addition to those who will join us on the march, we can take King's Landing within a few days of our arrival."

"We cannot simply abandon Riverrun to be retaken by the Lannisters!" Tytos Blackwater proclaimed. "Such a move would be disastrous, especially after the work we went through to lift the siege in the first place."

"The longer we wait, the longer the Lannisters have my uncle and his daughters." Olyvar interrupted heatedly. "We cannot afford for Joffrey to continue holding them for a great period of time."

"I'm sure no harm shall come to Lord Stark or his daughters." Lord Blackwood countered. "They are political prisoners of great importance to the Lannisters. Any harm done to them would make it impossible for the opposition to sue for peace."

"I too worry for the welfare of my husband and daughters." Catelyn intervened before her nephew could assert himself again, no doubt with less control of his temper the second time. "If the tales of Joffrey's cruelty that my nephew have told us are true, we must march on the capital with haste."

"Lady Stark, Lord Arryn, I beg of you to be patient. None of us want this to escalate to full scale war." Lord Blackwood reassured her, but Catelyn eyed her nephew and his Vale lords once more. They all seemed impatient, sharing annoyed looks between one another. "We have the Kingslayer at our mercy, amongst others as well. We need only to swap prisoners and avoid further bloodshed."

Catelyn watched as Olyvar exchanged one final look with Lord Royce before sighing. "I suppose this can't be kept a secret any longer." The boy stood up, taller than Catelyn could have ever remembered him standing before. "My lords, Aunt Catelyn, I have a confession that I must share with you, as I have shared with my own lords in secrecy. But I now understand that this revelation cannot stay veiled forever."

"What do you speak of, Cousin?" Robb now made his voice heard, curiosity embedded in his every syllable.

"Before I returned to the Eyrie, I visited my mentor, Lord Stannis Baratheon, on the isle of Dragonstone. There he informed me of two horrible truths. My father, the late Jon Arryn, was murdered by Cersei Lannister. The reason was because my father, along with Lord Stannis, had been investigating the legitimacy of the royal children."

"Nephew," Edmure began cautiously, "are you suggesting that the royal children are bastards?"

"That is the conclusion that my father and Lord Stannis came to. Stannis is the rightful King of Westeros, and we must aid him in taking King's Landing. It serves the dual purpose of deposing Joffrey from the Iron Throne as well as rescuing Lord Stark and his daughters."

Catelyn, in a state of shock herself, took in the mood of the room. Robb lacked a reaction, simply staring intensely at his cousin. Edmure and Lord Blackwood looked sickened at the revelation, whilst uncle Brynden looked furious. "Why did you not inform of us earlier, boy?" The Blackfish spat.

"We were sworn to secrecy by Lord Stannis, and then by Lord Arryn." Yohn Royce spoke fiercely in defense of his liege lord. "And it was impossible to send word to King Robert directly from Dragonstone."

"Quite a secret to keep. Did you not attempt to contact Robert with this accusation?" Theon inquired.

"Ravens were out of the question considering the spies in the Red Keep. We could not return and approach the King with the information ourselves either. Robert would not have believed Stannis, and both of us would have been in danger in the capital." Olyvar explained calmly. "Thus, I put trust in my uncle to discover the truth. Unfortuantely-"

"Robert must have died before Ned could have told him." Catelyn's hand went to her mouth. Could Robert have been killed by Cersei Lannister as well to prevent Ned from disclosing the truth?

"Precisely. I suspect that this imprisonment is a result of this discovery and Lord Stark's attempt to claim the throne for Lord Stannis."

"Lords Blackwood, Royce and Belmore. Excuse us for a moment." Robb spoke with a strong voice. "My family has something to discuss privately." Olyvar gave the nod to his lords before they rose alongside Lord Blackwood and descended down into the main area of the Great Hall, leaving only those who possessed Tully blood. Theon and Robb shared a look of understanding as well before Greyjoy departed after them. After all had left, Robb leaned in. "The Vale, how well defended did you leave it?"

"Along with the sixteen thousand we brought here, we called five thousand to guard the High Road. Tywin will not be able to breach it, and even if he did siege the Eyrie we supplied it too well before we left. They will be harassed in the mountains if they dare attempt an invasion."

"Good." Robb said. "He won't be able to go into the North either. My men at the Neck the two cousins exchanging a nod in understanding. The two of them had grown so much since Catelyn had seen them. It brought her a slight sense of joy.

"We missed an opportunity in rushing here." Brynden spoke up again, a tad bitter. "We could have simply traveled south instead of using the Twins. Pinched Tywin Lannister, forced him against the mountains."

"Unfortunately we did not know how quickly you were going to get here, nor how effective your attack was going to be. Else we would have assaulted Tywin's rear before joining up with you." Olyvar said. "It matters not. When Stannis sends word of his right to rule across the continent, the Stormlands will rally to him and we will have the Lannisters surrounded on all sides."

"If they don't mean to end up like the Reynes, Tywin will take our peace terms. Our forces will be too great." Edmure said with satisfaction. "Personally, I hope the old fool keeps fighting. We'd be all the better off getting rid of them after what they've done."

"We need to assure that my sisters and father are retrieved first. Their safety is paramount." Robb said sternly. "From there, we can make our enemies pay for this outrage."

Cat thought in silence about their situation before a realization dawned on her. "Olyvar, you said that _all_ of the queen's children were bastards?" When Olyvar nodded to her, she felt her eyes widen even further. "Then Myrcella and Tommen are as tainted as Joffrey. We must break your betrothal of that girl, immediately!"

But instead of his immediate agreement, Olyvar became incredibly nervous, giving Catelyn a queer look. "I don't see the need in that, Aunt Catelyn."

"What madness are you speaking boy?" The Blackfish barked at his great-nephew. "The girl is illegitimate. More importantly, she is affiliated to our enemy. If your betrothal to her hasn't already been broken by Cersei or Joffrey, it would be unwise to keep it."

"For what reasoning, Uncle?" Catelyn could tell the boy was getting highly defensive, although not speaking with the same venom as his mother had spoken back in the Eyrie. "Myrcella is a sweet girl. She's nothing like Joffrey is."

"It doesn't matter how sweet she is, boy. What matters is that she's a Lannister." Brynden Tully said dismissively. "We are at war, it would reflect poorly of you to continue fraternizing with the enemy. Your men would think you a turncloak."

"I serve Stannis loyally! I've made my intentions known, no one can question them!"

"And even if you convince your men, do you think Stannis will allow Myrcella to keep her head after he takes his throne!?" Robb had stood suddenly, demanding an answer from his cousin. Cat had never seen him address Olyvar like this, they had always been pleasant around one another. "Stannis will have her executed just like he will Joffrey and his brother!"

"I…I…" Olyvar could not come up with an answer. Catelyn knew he understood that Robb's words were true, but continued attempting to find something to contradict the statement. Catelyn herself doubted that Stannis would do such a thing, but could not deny that it was out of the realm of possibility. War had strange effects on men.

"Nephew, you must break this betrothal at once. If the Lannisters leaked this out while we are at war, suspicion will arise in the camp. The men will not continue having the same faith in you if you are betrothed to Cersei Lannister's bastard, Joffrey's own sister." Catelyn explained to her nephew, who could not find an argument against her. He was taken aback, and Cat could tell that his mind was futilely working to formulate an argument in his defense.

"It's for the best, dear nephew. Better for you to marry the daughter of one of your own lords instead of choosing that Lannister swine." Catelyn knew immediately that Edmure had said the wrong thing. Olyvar's once timid face turned into one of rage. His attention turned to his uncle, the sharpness in his brown eyes returning. Catelyn had seen the same look in his eyes after he had chastised his own mother.

"Don't ever call her that! Who are you to judge my actions when you can't even hold Grandfather's keep?!"

"My lords!" Before Edmure could respond and spit venom at Olyvar, a young messenger had stormed up the stairs, capturing the attention of all present. He was drenched in sweat, breathing heavy with bloodshot eyes. Catelyn thought the man had not found any sleep recently. She remembered back to her time watching over Bran.

"We were not to be disturbed." Brynden said. "What business have you?"

"W-word from the capital, r-r-regarding Lord Stark." _Eddard. _Catelyn held her breath, her full attention on the messenger. But all of her hope had been drained from her as she continued to watch him. His moist face began to break down as he looked her in the eyes, and he bowed his head low. "I-I'm sorry, my lady…"

Catelyn felt the tears well up in her eyes. "Ned. No." She heard herself say softly before falling into her seat, breathless. Ignoring the angry shouts of disbelief by her male relatives, her thoughts returned to her last meeting with her husband in King's Landing. As it all came rushing back to her, it hit her. That had been the last time_. Oh Gods._

* * *

A/N: So arrives the event we all dreaded would come. Poor Ned. To this day I still hold a particular type of venom for the Lannisters, as I'm sure many of you do as well.

Question comes from KnightofHolyLight, who asked in the previous chapter if the Starks and Tullys were aware of Joffrey's status as a bastard.

I decided against having the info given in the Eyrie, as Stannis had ordered it to be kept secret. But I figured that Olyvar would tell his relatives once they were all assembled at Riverrun in order to obtain the loyalties of the Riverlands and the North, as well as make the war more about putting Stannis in power instead of in revenge. Not that the Starks are in need of good reasons anymore :(

That exchange about Myrcella though...thoughts? :) Have a good one guys and gals.


	21. Tyrion II

I'd like to consider this chapter to be another rewrite of the original canon, made to include Olyvar in the conversation. The chapter I focused on rewriting the meat of is 'GOT Tyrion IX'. I would have everyone read the original chapter after the point Tywin names Tyrion acting Hand, although it is not necessary for the chapter to be important.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Whilst we engaged the Young Wolf's feigned force on the Kingsroad, the banners of the Falcon slipped behind us. No doubt they are well on their way to Riverrun to regroup, if not having already made it." Tyrion's uncle Kevan spoke grimly of the situation. "Even if we are now cut off from the Westerlands, we should count ourselves grateful."

"And why is that?!" Ser Addam Marbrand spat. "Now they've amassed a force that we cannot possibly defeat."

"At least they weren't smart enough to know that before." Tyrion said sarcastically. "If they had been able to communicate properly, they could have come together and then ran us into the side of the Arryn boy's mountains." Tyrion shot Ser Addam a look. "Would death suit you better than sitting here and discussing how to stay alive?"

"Jaime's capture is a catastrophe, but what's worse is all three armies joining together. Our hesitation when we heard that the Falcon was behind us cost valuable time. Scouts say it totals up to be fifty-five thousand men stationed at Riverrun, maybe sixty." Ser Harys Swyft moaned. "They have us isolated from the Westerlands, and could even strike at Casterly Rock and Lannisport should they desire. I see no other option than to sue for peace."

Tyrion grabbed his glass and threw it on the floor, drawing the attention of all the other lords in the room except for his father, who was still brooding silently in the corner. "You will find a better time drinking from that cup than suing for peace with Robb Stark and Olyvar Arryn. Not after our dear king lopped off Ned Stark's head. "

"Two battles and manpower do not simply win a war." Ser Addam spoke fiercely. "Those boys are still young, they are bound to make mistakes."

"And if they don't?" Lord Leo Lefford now took his turn to parlay. "Need I remind you they have Blackfish Tully and Bronze Yohn as their military advisers? Its best we attempt to secure a temporary truce with the boys, offer to trade prisoners.

"There were only three prisoners they wanted back, and Joffrey has killed one and force another to declare her father a traitor." Tyrion said. _How are these fools not recognizing this? _"Now what the Starks, Arryns and Tully want is our blood to turn the Trident red. And they're likely to get it unless we can find a way to get around them and back into the Westerlands. They're winning now."

"Then why not give them what they want?" Lord Leo insisted. "We need only trade the Stark girls and our other prisoners to obtain Jaime."

"Have you gone mad?" Ser Marbrand spoke again. "It would be foolish of them to trade Jaime for two little girls." _Not as mad as you think, Ser Addam_. In truth, Tyrion had thought it to be a better idea than most. He knew that Catelyn Stark would be in her son's ear about obtaining his sisters once more, and Olyvar would be frantic about securing their release as well.

"They have my son!" Tywin Lannister's voice rose above the rabble of his lords' discussion over their next course of action. "Everyone out. Kevan, Tyrion. Stay." The room emptied upon command, Tyrion actually surprised that his father had retained him. He got off of his chair on the far side of the table to be seated closer to his father and uncle. He was about to pour himself another cup of wine before his father gave him his own, barely touched.

"You were right about Eddard Stark. If he had not been executed, we could have dealt with the cousins and bought time to deal with Robert's brothers. Now we must deal with this madness instead."

"The boy is young." Tyrion explained. "He's bound to make mistakes."

"Then it's his mother's fault to bring the boy to heel. The stupidity of a public execution, and on the steps outside of the Sept of Baelor as well. Comparing them to the boys that lead the armies of our enemy, Joffrey is a fool. Though I suppose he never married a whore." Tyrion did his best to shrug off his father's insult.

"You were right as well, Uncle." Tyrion addressed Ser Kevan with honesty. "If the enemy had better knowledge of their position, we would be smashed against the Vale right now."

"We are still at risk of such a thing occurring, even if not by the Stark and Arryn forces." His lord father spoke very bitterly. "Varys has sent word that Renly Baratheon has married Margaery Tyrell in Highgarden. Mace Tyrell has called all of his available bannermen, and the majority of the Stormlands have thrown in with Renly. He's crowned himself king."

"How many do they have?" Kevan asked.

"Estimates claim that Renly will have seventy thousand strong." _Gods, we truly are cursed. _Tyrion thought as his father continued explaining the situation. "Stannis has not made his move yet, but whispers are that he is building a fleet on Dragonstone."

"When he hears about the Stormlords throwing their lot with Renly, Stannis will likely call his ward's army to his service." Tyrion remembered how Olyvar Arryn had praised the Lord of Dragonstone endlessly on the Kingsroad. "If the boy doesn't march to the Stormlands on his own anyways."

"Despite what the boy does, we must act now before we are surrounded on all sides. We must take position at Harrenhal with our remaining forces, as well as send ravens to raise another force In the Westerlands. Kevan,"Tywin looked at his brother. "Give Sers Gregor, Amory and Vargo Hoat three hundred men each. Order them to set fire to the Riverlands from God's Eye to the Red Fork."

His uncle gave a bow before leaving Tyrion alone with his father, who now looked at him with intensity. "What do you know about the Arryn boy?"

"The boy is quite spirited. Speaks about Stannis with higher regard than I've ever heard anyone do so. At the same time, he loves his family, so the boy isn't lacking reasons to hate Joffrey now." Tyrion took a drink before shrugging. "To be quite honest, he is dangerous. He gives Stannis an army, and not one made up of sellswords and sellsails. A _real _army."

"Stannis Baratheon is the most dangerous out of everyone involved in this war. If what Varys says is true, and Stannis gets a fleet paired with a sizable army, we cannot obtain victory. Your sister has ordered me to King's Landing to help defend the city." Tyrion could tell his father's voice was a tad bit vile. He certainly did not enjoy being ordered by Cersei. "She doesn't understand our situation here. If we allow Stark and Arryn free reign, we will be crushed by them instead."

"All things considered, she has a right to panic. We are opposed by two enemies, and surrounded on all sides. Renly is likely to sweep up from the south to take King's Landing, and the Tully relatives are just as likely to sweep from the North to do just the same in Stannis' name." Tyrion remarked grimly of the situation. "Our only hope is that Stannis and Renly fight one another before they can engage us."

"If what you've said about the Arryn boy is true, then I believe we can force an engagement between those who declare for Stannis against Renly's forces. After that, we can deal with whatever's left over."

"And do you mean to inform me of this plan, or are you going to leave me in the dark like you did during the battle?" Tyrion said bitterly. He had not forgotten how his father had not informed him of the plan when they had engaged Roose Bolton's army.

"You need not be bothered with my dealings. I have a different task for you." Tyrion watched with suspicion as his father took a small drink of wine before continuing. "While I am here dealing with Robb Stark, you must go to King's Landing and regain control over that boy and his mother."

Tyrion looked at him, utterly confused. "And how am I supposed to do that?" He asked incredulously.

"Simple. You are to serve as Hand of the King in my stead."

* * *

A/N: And so the Giant of Lannister returns at last. Near misses between Tyrion and Olyvar throughout, but that's bound to change when we get into ACOK territory. Wonder how the news of Renly's claim is going to go in Riverrun...

First Q comes from HolyKnightsoftheRoundTable, asking 'So if Olyvar's betrothal to Myrcella is broken, who will he be paired up with now?"

A: Who said the betrothal was broken? ;)

Next is Sparkey She-Demon, asking, "How old's Shireen compared to Olyvar?'

A: 9. I chose to keep Shireen's age the same as the books. Also, I see where you're going with this.

Hope you guys enjoyed the update!


	22. Olyvar VI

This chapter coincides with the final Catelyn chapter in AGOT. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Any word from Stannis?" Olyvar asked at the table, surrounded by his best advisers. Word had come from the south; Renly Baratheon had obtained the fealty of most of the Stormlords, as well as secured an alliance with the Reach through the marriage of Mace Tyrell's daughter, Margaery. Renly's army now totaled seventy thousand, more than even the Starks, Tullys and Arryns had combined in Riverrun.

"No ravens have arrived to Riverrun from either Dragonstone or the Eyrie." Yohn Royce said, seated on the right of his liege lord. He had bitterness in his voice after his second son, Robar, had fled the camp and declared for Renly. "We have heard that Stannis has been building a fleet in preparation of the war, but he now lacks an army to put on those ships. The Stormlands do not serve him, and we are cut off from crossing the Ruby Ford and the Twins."

"The damn Freys! This is an outrage, they've already enticed Lord Stark into a marriage with Old Walder's daughter!" Lord Jon Lynderly of Snakewood said in a fury. Their parlay with the Freys had been disastrous. If the words spoken by the Freys that were present in Riverrun were true, it seemed as if Lord Walder would want Olyvar to marry one of his daughters, just as Robb had, as payment for using the Crossing. "How dare that old fool, demanding the Falcon to adhere to him."

"We can't simply ignore the fact that we cannot cross the Ruby Ford with Tywin Lannister's men occupying Harrenhal." Lord Belmore stated grimly. "Either we wage war alongside Lord Robb in the Westerlands, or we adhere to Lord Walder's demands."

"Lord Frey is pledged to my grandfather, and will be allied with my cousin through marriage. Why does he feel the need to continue haggling us for his allegiance when we are already on the same side?" Olyvar was already frustrated before he had spoken with Stevron Frey. Renly's betrayal was not one that would be forgiven so easily. _Stannis is rightful, not him. Not Renly._

"Old Walder Frey sees an opportunity to pawn one of his daughters or granddaughters off onto you, my lord. Even if you are already…._promised._" Lord Redfort said mockingly.

"I do not need to be reminded of my decision, or chastised for it." Olyvar said coldly. Though many of his lords had accepted his decision to maintain his betrothal to Myrcella, there were some in his ranks that proven themselves to be less than accepting. Like the Freys, they too suggested marriages, most suggesting their own daughters. The Riverlords and Northmen were still under the assumption that the betrothal to Myrcella had been officially nullified, thanks to the work of his aunt Catelyn. "We are not here to discuss that. We are here to discuss how we are going to get south to the Stormlands to aid Stannis."

"The Kingsroad is our only option." Lord Royce pointed at the map of Westeros that had been laid on the table. "Should we try traversing the Reach, we are likely to be attacked on the basis of Renly knowing that Lord Olyvar was a ward to Stannis. He will assume that we have declared for him, even without official proclamation."

"There is the risk of ignoring Lord Frey's likely request and taking for the Ruby Ford." Lord Belmore spoke once again. "If we can somehow slip by Tywin Lannister through the Ruby Ford, our men can make for Gulltown. Your extended family can aid us in procuring ships of our own, my lord. But if we want to stay out of danger, the Twins are our best option."

Olyvar sat back, weighing both options in his mind. He was not particularly happy about the prospect of being demanded of anything by Walder Frey. But attempting to slip by Tywin Lannister back into the Vale or down the Kingsroad was tricky and dangerous. It was possible that he could ask Robb to go North through the Twins and distract Tywin once more, although Olyvar doubted that a man such as Tywin Lannister would be fooled by the same trick twice.

"My lord." A Tully man entered the tent, commanding the attention of the other Vale lords. "Your cousin requests your presence, along with five lords of your choosing."

The eyes of his lords went back to him. "Very well. My lords, we shall discuss our strategy later. Lords Royce, Belmore, Hunter, Lynderly, and Torrent. Please join me." All the men rose from their chairs, some engaging others in private discussions. Olyvar could see Lord Redfort give him a scathing look before Olyvar and his lords of choice walked swiftly out of the tent to follow the messenger into the keep, where he knew that his cousin and doubtless numerous other lords awaited them.

The feel of Riverrun was one full of anticipation and anger. His uncle's beheading had been a difficult one to take in when it had been announced. Robb had wept for his father throughout the night in the godswood, while his mother had taken to her chambers to grieve alone. Olyvar remembered how he had stood atop the battlements of the keep alongside the Blackfish, looking to the south and east to King's Landing. Brynden Tully had quelled Olyvar's tears, telling him that those who were responsible would perish by the swords of the alliance. But for that to occur, they could not weep forever. _This is war, my boy. We must be strong if we are to strike our enemies._ A harsh fact, but one that could not be ignored.

Numerous lords had called to march south and west to put the Lannisters to the sword, Rickard Karstark the heaviest supporter. The loss of his two sons and the capture of his third had driven the Northman into a frenzy, constantly demanding that the Kingslayer pay for his crimes and be executed. _Old fool._ Olyvar had thought bitterly. _We need Jaime Lannister to save the girls._

The lords of the Vale entered the Great Hall of Riverrun, already crowded with men seated at four long tables, laid out in a broken square. On one side were the numerous Riverlords, including Olyvar's uncles Ser Edmure and the Blackfish, as well as Lords Blackwood and Bracken, who had taken seats as far from the other as the tables would allow. Ser Marq Piper was also present, having the look of one who wished to speak loudly at this gathering.

Opposite were the Northmen, Robb seated in the center, his mother and the Greatjon flanking either side of him. Greyjoy sat immediately after the Greatjon, whilst Lady Mormont and Galbart Glover sat past his aunt. Aunt Catelyn had given him a soft smile after seeing his arrival. She looked sad to him, and as tired as he remembered her being in the North when she had been looking over Bran.

The debate raged throughout the night, each side debating their next course of action. Shouts for vengeance, threats issued, horns of ale slammed on tables. Men attempting to appeal to each other, to find others who shared in their philosophy. Men stormed out in fury, then back in with sullen faces or a newfound, joyous attitude. All the while, Olyvar stayed silent, simply observing.

Lords from all sides demanded that their alliance head east to crush Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal. Olyvar had seen one of the towers of the keep in the distance as they made their way to Riverrun, seemingly piercing the sky. The great structure created by the Iron King Harren the Black, who only enjoyed its protection for a short time before the Conqueror had come to Westeros and roasted Harren and his kin alive in what became Kingspyre Tower. Unfortunate they did not have their own Balerion.

_It was still wise for Tywin to take residence at the Keep. _Olyvar thought to himself. Even with fifty-five thousand men, there was no way to storm the walls of Harrenhal, made to be the tallest of any castle in Westeros. If they committed themselves in full to sieging Harrenhal, they would be open to attack from the West, where the Lannisters would surely be raising another army. That, and they would only be giving Renly time to move.

His fist clenched up when Marq Piper, who was friends with his uncle Edmure, began to speak. "We must send ravens to Highgarden and Storm's End to declare our loyalty to Renly Baratheon. With all of the Reach and the majority of the Stormlands declaring for him, there is no other option."

"Renly is not king." Robb had spoken just before Olyvar was about to make his voice heard on the matter. His cousin's voice was cool and calm, much different than most of the voices that had been heard.

"My lord, you cannot mean to keep for Joffrey." Lord Glover commented. "Not after he put your father to death."

"Neither of these supposed kings our rightful." Robb now looked over in Olyvar's direction, giving the Lord of the Eyrie a nod. "My cousin has a revelation that should shed light on this matter."

Olyvar rose, steadying his voice and balancing his emotions. He had experience in dealing with his own lords, whose loyalty were far from question. But he had his doubts about how well the Riverlords and Northmen would take to him, despite his kinship with their liege lords. "My lords, I name King Joffrey unrightful to rule, not by action but by right. It is he who I name an abomination, a bastard that is not of King Robert's seed!"

He was met with outrage from all angles. Some cursed Joffrey, others Cersei. Others clamored for the proof of Olyvar's statement "What proof have you?" Jonos Bracken called out from the rabble.

"Before his death, my father and Lord Stannis Baratheon looked into the legitimacy of the royal children. From their research of Robert's bastards, one of which resides in the Eyrie, they were able to determine that the children are indeed not Robert Baratheon's. They are frauds, and this Joffrey is a monster that must be put down!" Olyvar spit on the ground after naming Joffrey again.

"Then it is settled. We must declare for Renly." Marq Piper began again.

"Are you mad in the head?!" Lord Royce roared. The Lord of Runestone stood up so forcefully that his chair had toppled over. "Renly Baratheon is another false king. A younger brother, what right does he have to crown himself?!"

"This is true." Robb spoke once again. "If Joffrey is no seed of King Robert Baratheon, then Stannis Baratheon should be his successor. The younger brother cannot be lord before the elder. Bran cannot rule Winterfell over myself, just as Renly cannot take the Iron Throne over Stannis."

"Then we are to declare for Stannis." Lord Belmore stroked his beard as he spoke in a matter-of-factly tone of voice. "It is the only course of action I see appropriate." Nods of agreement came from other lords, but still there was dissent.

"That would pit us against two enemies, Renly and the Lannisters." Marq Piper's now annoying voice slid into the conversation again, gaining him Olyvar's glare. "If we raise our banners and declare for Renly, that would give him six of the great regions of Westeros as supporters. _Six, _against the Rock and King's Landing. We would have their heads on pikes before the year is done. Tell me, what does Stannis have that we should cast this aside?"

"He has the right to be King!" Olyvar's temper had overtaken him again, as his voice echoed throughout the hall. His patience had been tested with this nonsense that many of the Riverlords adhered to, attempting to take the easy way, the _coward's way,_ in declaring for Renly.

"The boy is right." Lady Mormont made her opinion known now. "Stannis, by right, is heir to the Iron Throne. For that, we should declare for him." The debate raged on, the question of Stannis or Renly invoking anger between the opposing sides. Olyvar did not speak after his chastising of Piper, opting to sit back in his chair and brood. Eventually, the hostilities between the two sides combined to rage against Ser Stevron Frey, who had suggested a truce. _Bastard, that's what you deserve._

"Why not peace?" Olyvar's head snapped as his aunt's voice came to his ears. The Lady Stark rose as she addressed the Great Hall, now deafly silent.

"My lady, they killed my lord father, your lord husband." Olyvar could hear the bitterness in his kin's voice as he drew his longsword, placing in on the table in front of him. "This is the only piece I intend to give them."

Numerous lords gave their approvals, but Olyvar's eyes continued to focus on his aunts. Her face was dignified as a noble woman's should be, but he could tell that she was pleading. "Robb, if your sword could bring back your father, our dear Eddard, I won't have you sheathe it until he returned home to us in Winterfell." Olyvar closed his eyes, attempting to block out his guilt and grief. "But he cannot. He is gone, and no about of lives lost can retrieve him from the Stranger."

"My lady, you are a woman. You cannot understand." The Greatjon rumbled.

"You are of a gentler sex." Rickard Karstark agreed with his fellow Northman. "You cannot have the same desire for vengeance as men have." _How can't she? _Olyvar thought to himself. She had captured Tyrion and brought him forth to Olyvar's seat. She and his mother had plotted to execute the man supposed to have sent a killer to Bran's bed, a man whose family had been responsible in the murder of his own father.

"Give me Cersei Lannister, and I will show you how vengeful and _gentle_ I can be." Olyvar smiled as he heard the prideful and fierce voice of his aunt. "But if I understand correctly, we have gone to war to protect the Riverlands and to save my dear Ned. One has forever been robbed of us, but another we have accomplished." Catelyn paused for a moment to look over all the faces crowded in the hall. "They have my daughters. Your sisters, Robb. Olyvar's cousins. And I want them back more than anything. I want everyone to return to their seats, safe from further harm. For you, Robb, to grow in Winterfell, to father a child. For you, Olyvar," Catelyn's gaze met his own. "To return to your mother and brother in the Eyrie. To care for them. And if I must trade four Lannisters for two Starks, I would call that a bargain and return to my home, to weep for my lost love."

The room was silent for the longest time before Ser Brynden spoke. "Peace is sweet, my lady. But it is now impossible. Not after the information your own nephew has spoken to us, of this bastard king sitting on a throne that does not belong to him." Numerous other lords stood in agreement, and Olyvar saw his aunt's face fall into despair as the discussion once again turned to the matter of Renly and Stannis. He pitied her. All she desired was to have her daughters back safely, but the chance for peace had slipped away.

"_MY LORDS!" _The room went quiet as the Greatjon rose from the table. "Here's what I think of these two kings." He spat on the ground, drawing cheers from all but the Vale, who sat stoic in observation. "Renly Baratheon means nothing to me, and Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and my own, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or King's Landing? What do they know of the Wall and the wolfswood? Even their _gods _are wrong." Most worshipers of the Seven did not take kindly, but remained silent. "I've had my bellyful of Lannister kings, and Baratheon stags. The dragons were the ones we married, and they have died!" The man drew his massive greatsword from his back, pointing it at Robb. "_There _sits the only man I intent to bend _my _knee to. The King in the North!"

_No. _Olyvar rose suddenly, attempting to prevent this folly from expanding further. But before he could, Rickard Karstark spoke. "That is a king I find worth serving!" He too took his sword, placing it at Robb's feet and kneeling alongside the Greatjon. "Let them have their chair and their red castle. The King in the North!"

"The King of Winter!" Maege Mormont was next to declare, laying her spiked ball amongst the swords. Then the Blackwoods, followed by the Mallisters and Brackens. Lords that Winterfell never had dominion over, yet all cheered for Robb. Olyvar could only look on alongside his own lords, surveying the scene in shock.

Then his eyes locked with his aunt once more. Catelyn's eyes were wide in shock as well, and the two shared an understanding within their gaze. _He doesn't mean to refuse._ All had been lost in the Greatjon's declaration. Where the combined might of the Vale, Riverlands and the North could have defeated the Lannisters and Renly, now a new power had come into existence. Olyvar shared a look with his lords, all of which looking apprehensive and out of place. They too understood what this meant.

"The King in the North!"

_Robb is not for Stannis._

"The King in the North!"

_Robb is Stannis' enemy."_

_ "THE KING IN THE NORTH!"_

* * *

_A/N: _So ends the edited version of AGOT, and what a turn of events. The King in the North rises all the same, and Olyvar was powerless to prevent it.

Many are questioning the wisdom of Olyvar's attempt to maintain his betrothal to Myrcella, which I figured I should have briefly reflected this chapter. It certainly is not the wisest decision for him to make, isn't it?

Another question posed is whether or not the Vale would have a very large army. If one looked at the semi-canon sources, the Vale is considered by some to be the second most fertile lands outside of the Reach, perhaps tied with the Riverlands. This would, theoretically, help them in fielding large armies. But I made it so the Vale could only raise sixteen thousand at first, a quick response force for the crisis in the Riverlands. They should be able to field more, but how much more remains a question to me. (If anyone can find me exact numbers/estimations, I would be grateful :) )

Comments on the chapter's contents are appreciated as always. Tell me what you guys think of how this little AU has been going along now that we've reached the end of Book 1, and tell me what your hopes are as we go into ACOK territory.


	23. High As Honor: Checkpoint I

Well, here we are. The end of the first portion of the story that resides in AGOT. But before we move on to ACOK, I figured that I would have my own reactions of your reactions, and answer any questions that may have come up.

We start with LordofRhovanion, who has brought to question how the Vale could have the second most fertile region in Westeros.

If we are going to only discuss the fertility of the Vale without it being interconnected with how many men they can raise, I'll make this argument: According to semi-canon sources, the rivers that flow through the Vale allow for the lands that are not mountainous to possess think, rich soil. If we use the logic and scientific fact that we have in our possession today, we can assume that due to these rivers, the soil has a great deal of nutrients that can attribute the fertility of the land. There is no question that the Reach and Riverlands have more land that is fertile and fit for farming, but the rivers, along with the natural run off of the minerals from the mountains into the valleys, would theoretically allow for the Vale to have more fertile soil that could be used for farming.

As for the number of men they can raise, I suspect that it would be close to 25k, the majority of these men residing in the eastern areas of the Vale, where they lack the same mountainous terrain. Such locations include Gulltown, Snakewoods, Runestone, Coldwater, and the immediate areas surrounding them. The northern portion of the Vale also lacks the same mountainous terrain, inviting the possibility that considerably larger settlements could exist there.

In response to Dracarot's review: "_It is not a question of wanting. The throne is mine, as Robert's heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son. I am king. Wants do not enter into it. I have a duty to my daughter. To the realm. Even to Robert. He loved me but little, I know, yet he was my brother. The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean. As Robert should have done after the Trident._" -Stannis Baratheon.

Something tells me he's not going to calm down. :)

Trap3r: Oh yes, everything has fallen apart. As everything usually does in A Song of Ice and Fire. But more guests at the Red Wedding...we shall see.

MerryMachiavelli: In regards to how Warden of the East works, you'd have to take that up with GRRM. I think it's only supposed to be an honorary title with the only practical use being in the event of invasion. In the case of Olyvar not named Warden, just blame Robert for being weak willed against his wife, as well as a poor king.

Also, for those addressing Olyvar's wisdom (which is written to be stubborn and childish, because he's basically still a child), I'm planning on writing his rational in an upcoming POV that will belong to him. You're all free to guess what it is and agree/disagree with it. Beginning work on the ACOK portion soon. Have a great day all!


	24. ACOK: Olyvar I

Not very much of a wait, was it? ;) This chapter precedes 'ACOK: Catelyn I' in chronology. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

He walked in the halls of the keep, wandering endlessly after his lessons had been adjourned. It was something of a museum to him as he observed the pale red stone that made up the walls, witnesses to nearly three hundred years of history. His tutor had told him the castle had been built by the Conqueror himself after he had first stepped foot in Westeros. It was a fine castle, but long had the Targaryen decorations been removed. In their stead, those of a stag and lion now lined the walls.

He heard noises emanating from down the corridor, peaking his curiosity. He increased his stride into nearly a run before turning into a room where he saw the source. "Olyvar." A little girl with the most beautiful golden curls called to him, beaming. "Come play with me and Tommen." Alongside of her was a boy, a bit plump with matching gold hair. He too turned and beamed at the sight of him, grinning from ear to ear.

He couldn't help but to smile as he ascended the stairs to where the siblings were playing, around the chair that their father sat in. He found it a detestable thing honestly. It was formed up of many blades, all looking as sharp as the ones that he often wielded during his training. He often wondered how any man could sit comfortably in it, especially a man as large as the girl's father.

The children played around the chair for quite some time before the girl suggested a game. "Tommen, you sit on the chair and pretend to be king, while I'll be your queen!"

"My sister can't be my queen though." The boy remarked, nearly in despair over the trivial matter. _He is only four, after all. _

"Okay, well then Olyvar can be king, and I'll be his queen! You can be the Hand!" Tommen's face lit up at the thought, whist Olyvar's own face fell. Being king meant that he would have to sit on the chair of swords, something he didn't want to do in the slightest. But the girl had already grabbed his arm. "Come on, Olyvar. You have to sit on the throne!"

"W-wait, Myrcella!" Olyvar was forced into it, despite his pleas for Tommen to sit in the chair and be king while he was the Hand, just like his father was to Tommen and Myrcella's father. Admitting defeat and accepting being put into the chair, he tried getting into a comfortable position, but just as he had suspected, the Iron Throne wasn't the easiest or softest chair he had ever sat on. It was stiff and rigid, and Olyvar kept a constant eye on the blades that it was made up of, keen to avoid cutting himse;f.

"See?" Blissful Myrcella said with a smile. "Now I can sit beside you, like Mother does for Father." And so Myrcella took her seat as his mock queen, whilst Tommen stood beside him. Eventually Olyvar stopped sulking and began to enjoy the game that they played. They imagined themselves sitting and adhering to the pleas of peasants and of lords who were in need of aid, just as their fathers did daily.

"Oh? What is this now?" The children had been so busy that they had not noticed a large man enter the doorway, an amused look on his face. He was followed by a much older man who was wearing a blue cloak.

"Father!" All three children yelled, rushing down the stairs for the men. Little Tommen had a tougher time waddling down the stairs, allowing Myrcella and Olyvar to streak past him. Myrcella entered the embrace of her father, King Robert, while Olyvar stopped short of his father, beaming up at him. Jon Arryn returned the affection with a smile, patting him on the head affectionately.

"Olyvar."

Startled, his eyes open quickly to the sight of a ceiling made of grey stone. Gone was the pale red of the Red Keep, where he had spent the majority of his life. Gone were the memories of playing with Myrcella and Tommen, and gone were the faces of his father and the king. Olyvar Arryn began to gather his thoughts. _Riverrun. Yes, I'm in Riverrun._ He turned his head to the side to the sight of his his aunt, Catelyn Stark, kneeling alongside of him, a soft smile on her face that resembled the one his father has worn in the dream.

"Olyvar. Your grandfather has sent for you and Robb. He wishes to lay eyes on the two of you." Olyvar had to process the request for a moment. _Grandfather…yes, I remember now. He's dying._ Hoster Tully had grown sick in the past few years, and many suspected that he would not survive to see another nameday.

"Of course, Aunt Catelyn. I will change into something more presentable, then I shall meet Robb at Grandfather's chambers." She nodded and smiled before exiting his quarters. Olyvar rose from his bed and changed his garb. He chose a blue tunic to match his cloak, the very same that his father had worn so often during his work as Hand. After stretching his arms and legs, he made for the door.

Riverrun had become engulfed in a flurry of activity since he and the Starks had arrived to save the homeland of his and Robb's mothers. But what had once been peaceful and harmonious had become a strained truce, with hostilities threatening to spill out at any moment. All of it beginning at the meeting that had occurred two days previous. _Damn the Greatjon. What was he thinking?_

Robb's bannermen had done the unthinkable and declared him a king. What Olyvar had thought would be a meeting for all three regions to swear fealty to Stannis had collapsed into madness, where the North and Riverlands were united in support of the Starks and independence from the Iron Throne. But it had not gone unnoticed that the Vale had not done the same, and many of the bolder men had questioned the Vale's courage, as well as if kinship meant anything to them.

_Of course it does, else why would I be here peacefully instead of taking your head for questioning my honor?! _Olyvar knew that he had made a mistake in the words that he had aimed at Marq Piper the night previous, where the lordling had dared to question him about how much his family truly mattered. Swords had been drawn between the lords loyal to Robb and those pledged to Olyvar. Only the fierce words of the Blackfish had quelled the tempers, but everyone knew that unless the Vale swore itself to Robb, they were not long for Riverrun.

Olyvar was insulted by the whispers and slights he heard that went against him. Was he not fighting to free Sansa and Arya, as well as doing his rightful duty towards his king, Stannis Baratheon? Did he not come to the aid of the Riverlands in their defense from Tywin Lannister? Yet even after all of that, even after he had been the one to reveal Cersei's treachery and Joffrey as a bastard, he felt like one of the most hated men in Westeros.

He finally found the door that housed his Grandfather, Robb outside of it, supposedly waiting for him. Olyvar had not spoken to his cousin since he had been declared a king by his men, but gave a nod in respect nonetheless, which was returned. "Shall we?" Robb asked nervously.

"Suppose so." Olyvar opened the door to reveal a room that felt bleak to him. Located in a bed that was situated in the far corner of the room was their grandfather. Hoster Tully indeed looked like a man on the verge of being embraced by the Stranger. He had lost much weight since Olyvar had seen him last, but upon their entrance, he was still met with a smile.

"Ahhh, the children of my sweet daughters." Hoster beckoned them to come closer, which Olyvar and Robb did, kneeing at the side of the bed. "You, you must be Robb. Yes…Catelyn's hair and my eyes." Olyvar saw Robb smile as he was addressed. "And you….sharp brown eyes, a tint of Lysa's coloring…you are Olyvar Arryn. Yes, I remember now. How you have grown."

"Grandfather, it is so good to see you once more." Olyvar to the old man's hand into his own, being careful to not squeeze too hard. Then it was Robb's turn to grip the hand before the old man patted them both on the head.

"I hear that one of you has been crowned a king." Lord Tully said feebly. "Catelyn told me, visited me the morning after….Robb, yes it was you. A King of Winter." The old man gave another smile. "My blood, a king."

Olyvar wanted nothing more than to protest, but could not find it in himself to do so in the presence of his grandfather. He was glad that Robb spoke. "Yes, Grandfather. Your men and mine have crowned me king. We will defeat the Lannisters, together."

"Together…." Their grandfather took a long time, formulating his next thought. "Yes, the two of you. Together. Yes, none shall defeat you." Olyvar did his best to not look sullen or to scowl. He put on the face that Stannis had trained him to use whenever he had need to hide his emotions. It was an iron stare that Olyvar never did like, but he helped to complement it with a smile, albeit forced.

"Of course, Grandfather. We will defeat the lions together." Olyvar knew that this drew a look from Robb. _Don't you dare assume anything, my kin. _But before either boy could speak again, the door behind them opened once more. Olyvar turned to the sight of Edmure, his face solemn and distant.

"Father, I have come."

"Edmure, my son." Hoster Tully's voice almost seemed lost. "Boys, leave us be. I have things to discuss with your uncle." Olyvar gave a bow alongside of Robb before the two left the room together, Olyvar making sure the door behind them was shut.

"He is dying." Robb said simply.

"Aye, it is as we feared." Olyvar was at least thankful that he and Robb had arrived to help liberate Riverun so that they could lay eye on their grandfather for one final time. He had only met Lord Hoster twice, one with his mother Lysa five years ago, and another with his father three years ago. The latter visit was made by Jon on orders of Robert, who wished to know of the state of affairs throughout the realm. Ironically, it was the same trip that Olyvar had also visited the Starks on.

"Mother weeps for him daily. I can see it in her eyes. They're always red in the morning." Robb's mentioning of Catelyn made Olyvar uncomfortable. Seeing as his own mother was in the Eyrie under his orders, Lysa Arryn would not be able to see her passing father one final time. _Not that her paranoia would allow her to leave the Vale anyways._

"The sooner we defeat the Lannisters, the sooner this madness can end." Olyvar said simply and bitterly. "We need to get the girls back."

"Only one of the few demands I've made to the Lannisters. I'm sending down one of Cersei's cousins to King's Landing to present them."

"Ahhh, I've forgotten. Royal proclamations." Olyvar knew that his cousin was not going to appreciate the words coming out of his mouth, but pressed on. "How do you enjoy being a king?"

"I didn't ask for this." Robb responded fiercely as the two continued walking.

"No, but you certainly didn't take any liberties in rejecting them, did you?" When Robb had no answer to Olyvar's cold words and sharp gaze, he continued. "Stannis is rightful. You and I know that. And you are simply going to abandon him for the love of your lords and a crown on your head."

"And why is that so awful to you?" Robb began once again. "The love of my lords and the promise of peace. Separation away from a kingdom that for three hundred years has ruled over _my _people."

"Because you are not rightful."

"Aegon the Conqueror wasn't rightful until he came to Westeros to make himself a king. Robert Baratheon certainly wasn't rightful until he led his rebellion and took the throne. How is what I'm doing so different from them?!" It was Olyvar's turn to be wordless. He could not find an answer to his liking. "Our ancestors knelled to the dragons when he arrived, but now they are gone. Why should we not be kings again?"

"We have our oaths and vows, and we are bound to them by the honor that we are supposed to represent our houses with!" Olyvar and Robb's hisses had now become shouts, likely leaking through the stone walls and into the corridor that had led them to the room. "Are you going to throw that all away for a crown? Are you simply going to disobey the law?!"

"The North and the south seem to adhere to different laws. My lords made me their king, what better right can one have? Perhaps you're just jealous that yours did not do the same for you!"

"At least I don't allow my selfish desires to get the better of me." Olyvar met Robb's glare with just as much intensity. "Your father would have done what I'm doing. He-" The words could not escape his mouth, as Robb's right fist made contact with his jaw. Olyvar reeled and fell back into the stone wall, not fully aware of what had just happened. But it only took a moment for him to understand. "You bastard!"

He leaped back at Robb Stark, intending on breaking the arm that had delivered the punch. Punches, elbows, kicks, all was legal in the brawl. It was not playful as their others had been in Winterfell, where they had often scrapped with Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow. This was a fight, and it was a fight that Olyvar desired more than anything to win.

"WHAT IN SEVEN HELLS?! Seize them!" The booming voice of the Greatjon called out, and before long Olyvar felt several pairs of hands on him, pulling him away from his cousin. He struggled for a moment, wanting to punch Robb one more time, before calming down. He surveyed the damage he had done to his cousin; the outlines of a punch was over Robb's left eye, likely to blacken. Olyvar felt blood trickling down his lip, which felt as if it was swollen.

"What is this madness that has come over both of you?!" The stern voice of his aunt came after the Greatjon's, anger evident in every syllable. "Fighting like children, how unseemly for a king and a high lord!"

Normally, Olyvar would have hung his head in shame. But his anger at Robb, the Lannisters, and the Freys, all of it fueled him. He ripped away from the grips of his captors, which were garbed in the Tully colors, before looking Robb directly in his blue eyes. "Do what you want. You are no king of mine."

"Olyvar!" He heard his aunt call back for him, but he had swiftly exited the door and made his way down to the grounds, where he was supposed to have met Lord Royce some time later in the day. But now, he could not wait, and he found the Lord of Runestone sitting in his personal tent. "My lor- _gods, _what has happened to you?"

"The story can wait, Lord Royce." Olyvar's fury overtook his voice. "How long before we can rally our men?"

"I can have them ready in a few moments, my lord."

"Good. We depart for the Ruby Ford. We're going south and winning the Stormlands in King Stannis' name!"

* * *

A/N: Ahh, youthful stupidity and testosterone. I remember when I was a teenager.

As always, leave a review and comment on this chapter. It always helps. Thanks guys.


	25. ACOK: Catelyn I

Alright, so this is a re-write for a few parts of 'ACOK: Catelyn I'. Should you be reading along in the books, all words leading up to Robb being done with Cleos Frey and meeting Catelyn remain intact. From there, if you want to include Catelyn's walk through Riverrun as she admires summer before she goes into her father's sickroom, you can do that as well. Besides that, I feel I've altered enough to lead the story on. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

After her son had finished with Cleos Frey, Catelyn approached him with a stern look, meeting his wolfish grin. "You did a wonderful job, Robb. Although that act with your direwolf befits a child more than it does a king."

"Yes, but did you see the look on his face?" Her son was almost giddy.

"What I saw was Lord Karstark storming out of the hall." This mentioning made Robb's face fall. "In combination with what's already happened, I would say you cannot afford to lose any more allies."

"I don't intend to." Robb said bitterly, his hand floating towards his left eye. It had swollen a great deal, although not enough for the eye to close entirely. "I will go to Lord Karstark and speak with him."

"Did you make peace with your cousin before he departed for the south?" When her son turned away and looked down, Catelyn found her answer. "Robb, I told you that you needed to do that."

"Why should I have to go to him?" Her son spoke fiercely. "I'm a king now, he should have come to me and apologized." _Gods Robb, you are acting like a child_. Catelyn shook her head at her son's foolishness. Even if Olyvar and Robb had not fought, Catelyn was still sure her nephew would have sided with Stannis. But because of the fight, they had lost one of their best assets; a diplomat who could and likely would influence the Lord of Dragonstone. Now, Catelyn feared that the relationship between her son and nephew would resemble that of her father and uncle.

"We cannot dwell on the matter." Edmure now made his voice heard. "Olyvar has made his choice, and so have we. If the boy sieges King's Landing in Stannis' name, we can be sure he will make sure the girls are safe. Stannis is still fighting the same enemy as we are, and because he has Olyvar, the girls' protection is assured."

"You should have traded the Kingslayer for the girls. There's no way Cersei Lannister will give them up for two of her cousins when it's Jaime she wants." Catelyn said to her son. She had no lack of faith in her nephew, but knew that trading Jaime Lannister would bring the girls home sooner.

"My men would not let me trade the Kingslayer. Perhaps I might have for Father if he were still alive, but not now."

"They have made you their king." Cat objected.

"And they can unmake me." Robb said grimly. "And right now, we need as much support as we can."

"You've done a bit to lose some support we could have had. Even if Olyvar wasn't going to join you, you could have at least used him as a diplomat to Stannis Baratheon. Gods know we need allies against the Lannisters, and we don't have room to alienate our own family!"

"Cat. Leave him alone." Edmure became stern. Catelyn was ready to snap at him before she caught a glimpse of her son's fallen face. _Gods, I often forget he's only five-and-ten._ Robb was trying, and Catelyn realized that she was perhaps expecting too much too quickly. But all she wanted was Sansa and Arya to be returned to her, for her family to join Bran and Rickon back in Winterfell. "The boy is-"

"I am not a boy!" The fire that she had seen in Robb during his fight with Olyvar rose up in him again. "I am a king, and I'll prove that I can defeat the Lannisters without Olyvar Arryn!" With that, the King in the North turned heel and left swiftly. Catelyn figured that her son's pride was still wounded from the fight, which Cat had to admit Olyvar had gotten the better of.

"He'll calm down, Cat." Edmure put his hand on her shoulder. "Eventually, the two of them will reconcile."

"I only hope it takes them less time than Father and Uncle." This brought a chuckle to Edmure, although Catelyn thought it less than humorous and more of a realistic possibility. "I'm going to visit him in his bed. Will you join me?"

"I would, but I've promised that I was to meet with new recruits. They are in need of training." He bowed before departing, leaving Catelyn alone to consider their situation. Theon sent back to Pyke, Olyvar leaving in a fury for Stannis' camp, the girls still in King's Landing, and Tywin Lannister building up another host in Lannisport. It all felt wrong to her. She couldn't explain why, but it all made her ill. She decided to opt for the fresh air of summer, and retreated outside for a time.

After a time, Catelyn returned to her father's sickroom, eager to spend more time with him. But as she opened the door, she was surprised to see her uncle, Brynden Blackfish, sitting by her father's bed. He had a long face on as he looked upon his brother and back to his niece. "Uncle, I was not aware you had returned. Does Robb know?"

"No. I did not mean to intrude on His Grace's court. Besides, he will want to hear the news in private." Catelyn took a seat by him as the Blackfish's eyes continued gazing upon Hoster Tully. "How has he been since my departure?"

"He grows weaker by the day." Catelyn said with sorrow. "There are times that he does not remember things as easily as he did. Although Robb told me that he recognized him and Olyvar near instantly the day before."

"And where is the Young Falcon?" Brynden questioned. "His banners were not flying on the grounds of Riverrun when I returned." Catelyn's head hung, and this did not go unnoticed. "What has happened?" Concern was in his voice.

"Come, we should depart so as not to disturb Father. I will explain elsewhere." Catelyn and her uncle left Lord Tully in his bed, choosing to take their conversation to a nearby balcony. When they finally made it, Catelyn took a deep breath. "The boys got into a fight yesterday. Both were furious with one another, it took three men each to restrain them. After we ceased the madness, Olyvar gathered his men and departed for the East."

"Did he say where he was off to?" The Blackfish's face was scrunched up in anger over hearing the news of his great-nephews' quarrel. When she shook her head, he swore. "Those boys needed to stick together. Our combined forces would have been enough to defeat Tywin here in the Riverlands, but now-"

"Olyvar was never going to swear fealty to Robb, Uncle." Catelyn said, recalling the night her son had been made king, having seen the look on her nephew's face. "He is honor-bound to Stannis Baratheon, and committed to making him king over all others."

"Then he will have a hard enough time doing it." The Blackfish's grim reply was worrisome. "Our scouts were wrong about Renly having seventy thousand at his disposal. It's closer to a hundred."

"_A hundred thousand men?!_" She gasped as she heard the number. "He's walking to his death."

"Aye, unless Renly shows mercy, which he may. I've heard the boy is made more of flowers than of iron like his brother." The Blackfish stroked his beard. "With the manpower that he possesses, it may be wise for Robb to ally with him momentarily. He can deal with the Lannisters in the south while we fight here and in the Westerlands."

"I see no other option." Catelyn did not like it, but it was a fact that Renly's forces, at least in numbers, were superior to all of the other factions. She also worried for her nephew's safety. "I will convince Robb to send me south to treat with Renly. Perhaps we can procure and alliance."

Her uncle smiled at her. "He will want something, Cat."

"Of course he will, he's a king now." She said simply. "And it's likely he will want what all kings want; for us to bend our knees. But never mind that now. Tell me, how do we fare in this war?"

* * *

A/N: And off goes Catelyn to treat with Renly, as Olyvar goes off to fight against Renly. Hmmm, wonder if they will meet...


	26. ACOK: Colemon I

This chapter can honestly land anywhere along the beginning of the 'ACOK' chronology, but for specifics' sake let's just say it falls concurrent with the day of Joffrey's tournament, aka "ACOK: Sansa I" or "Tyrion I" Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers.

* * *

"Maester, Maester! Come and see!" The boy rushed up the stairs, hugging his stuffed bear as his mop of hair bounced up and down with every step. _Gods, the boy's condition as improved._ It had started slowly, with random bursts of energy. But as time grew, he had watched as Robert Arryn began growing stronger, with more stamina than the boy had previously existed. "Maester Colemon!"

"Yes, young lord, I am coming." Despite only being in the middle of his life, Maester Colemon had difficulty in keeping up with the newly energetic boy of six. Colemon had no doubt that the weaning off of his mother's milk had helped accelerate Robert's development, both physically and mentally. Lately the boy had taken to running, having built his lungs up due to the stress of the activity. At the beginning, he would tire easily, but as time went on Robert ran further and longer. It still troubled Colemon, who would watch with uncertainly, but nothing had come of issue yet.

"Maester, Maester! Look!" The boy had approached the balcony with a large grin on his face. "Look in the sky! What is _that?"_

"What do you mean, my dear- _oh, by the gods_!" Colemon breathed out as he looked into the sky and took in the sight of the red comet. "Even when the sun shines in the sky…incredible." Colemon had always had a fascination for astronomy, going back to his days at the Citadel, training to be a maester. He clutched at his chain as he stared at the comet in the sky, reminiscing about those days.

"What is it Maester? I've never seen that before." The child's excitement would have made Colemon smile, but he could not bring himself to. Lord Robert was always asleep before nightfall, when the comet had revealed itself to Westeros daily for the past fortnight. Only now had it revealed itself in the daylight, which to Colemon was like seeing it over again for the first time. "It's pretty." The boy remarked.

"T-that is a comet, my young lord." The maester swallowed his nervousness before kneeling down and looking at Robert, hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's a star that streaks by in the sky."

"A star that streaks in the sky?" The boy asked, wide eyed and fascinated. "Is this the first one?"

"Oh no, there have been many comets spotted in the sky." Colemon began listing off the ones that he had studied. "There was the one that supposedly flew in the sky the night before the Conqueror stepped foot in Westeros. Another flew over after the Great Spring Sickness had subsided. Most recently, one had…" But as Colemon looked at the boy, he chuckled. _He doesn't want a history lesson, you fool. Just to know about comets. _"Well, you understand. There have been many."

"Have any of them been as red as that one?" The young boy pointed in the sky once more.

"No, I'm afraid none of them have been colored red up until this one." Colemon tried to veil his concern. He had heard all sorts of rumors about the comet's meaning. One suggested it was to celebrate the crowning of King Joffrey Baratheon, an idea Colemon utterly rejected due to the revelation his own Lord, Olyvar Arryn, had presented to him. Others stated that it was to signal the return of the dragons, but how could that be if the actual dragons had been dead for more than a century?

"Then why is this one red?" The boy asked curiously. Colemon smiled slightly, remembering back to how Lord Olyvar had also been full of such curiosity. He was thankful that Robert was now showing the same traits, even if he was not as robust as his brother.

"Who's to say, little lord? Perhaps it's a sign from the gods, attempting to show us things in the sky." He looked back up to the red streak, determined to not share his own suspicions about the meaning of such things. "We can only hope that the meaning of the comet can be revealed to us soon."

"Maester." Colemon looked back down to see the boy now staring back in the sky at the comet, wide eyed. "Can I name it?"

Colemon's head tilted to the side. "You want to name the comet?" The boy shook his head softly, never turning to look the maester in the eyes. "Hmmm, I suppose no harm can be done in choosing a name. Go on then, young one. What will you name it?"

The boy thought hard about the issue, looking down at the stone that made up the railing and balcony. Finally, he looked back up in the sky before christening the object with a name. "The Red Tear."

"You think it's a tear?" It was the maester's turn to be curious.

"Well, look at it. Doesn't it look like the sky is crying?" Colemon had to take a few moments to observe the comet to see what his ward was speaking of. _Yes, I do see. _"You're right. It does look like a tear."

"_ROBERT!" _Colemon spun around to see a deranged Lysa Arryn, nearly seething at the sight of him and her son. _How did she get free?! _"_ROBERT, COME TO YOUR MOTHER!" _

Colemon felt something tug at fabric near his leg, and upon looking down saw the little Robert hiding behind him, absolutely frightened at the sight of his mother. Colemon and Nestor Royce had gone to great lengths to keep the two separated, but somehow she had found a way to escape her apartment. He quickly turned back to Lysa, who was now approaching the doorway.

"Lady Lysa, by order of your son, the Lord of the Eyrie, you are to be confined in your apartment. I command you to return there immediately." Colemon attempted to order in a stern voice.

"_GIVE ME MY SON, COLEMON!" _The refined Lysa Tully that had arrived in the Vale so many years ago was gone. In her place stood a defiled and paranoid woman who saw enemies everywhere, even within her own family. Colemon had been thankful for his liege's timely return, else the 'Lady Regent', as Lysa had titled herself, would still be ruling unchecked.

"You leave me no choice." He was nervous, for he did not want Robert to see what he was about to do. "Guards! Guards!" Upon his command, three guards he had stationed close by entered the room Lysa stood in. "Seize this woman!"

_"NO! NO, I AM THE LADY REGENT! YOU MUST OBEY ME!" _Lysa could only struggle for a few moments before she was taken away, her shrieks of fury still echoing in Colemon's ears. As she was taken away, he felt Robert's grip loosen.

"I apologize, my lord, but-_gods, no!" _The boy's grip had loosened, but not out of relief as Colemon had thought. Robert had begun one of his shaking spouts again, and became ever closer to falling upon the stone floor where he had dropped his stuffed bear. Thankfully Colemon had caught it, and swept the boy up in his arms and swiftly made his way to his quarters. He had developed a serum that had helped to suppress the shakes better than the leechings had, and had two or three vials ready for any given moment. _Please, Lord Robert, hold on._

* * *

_A/N:_ A shorter chapter than most I think, but it gets the point across that there are still things occurring in the Eyrie, which I feel was long forgotten about until Sansa was brought there by Littlefinger in the canon. Colemon, for me, is a character that will need a lot more development considering he is very minor in the books, but he's one that I feel can be turned into someone who is interesting, especially with his new found responsibilities.

Reactions on this chapter, including Lysa's meltdown and the meaning of the Red Comet, are welcome. Have a good day guys :)

P.S.: Must have misclicked, posted the Olyvar chapter in place of the Colemon chapter the first time...I need coffee. Thanks guys.


	27. ACOK: Tyrion I

Another slight rewrite, this one occurring in 'ACOK: Tyrion I' The rewrite occurs as Tyrion is speaking to Cersei about who killed Jon Arryn, and ends when the question of how Cersei dispatched Robert Baratheon comes up. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Who murdered Jon Arryn?" It was a question of great importance to Tyrion, but as he posed the question, his sister yanked her hand away from him.

"How am I supposed to know that?!" She spat at him.

"Because a certain boy of the Eyrie thinks _you _were the one to kill him." Tyrion eyed her with suspicion. "And if what I've heard is correct, he left Riverrun and is marching south as we speak."

"And why would Olyvar Arryn dare to attack us here?"

"Where do I begin the list?" Tyrion began sarcastically. "He believes you to have killed his father. He _knows_ your son killed his uncle. We hold his cousins, or should I say cousin, hostage. You convinced Robert to name Jaime Warden of the East, and to sweeten the pot he loathes Joffrey like Robert loathed Rhaegar Targaryen. Are those good enough reasons for you?" As Tyrion mocked his sister with the answers, he could see Cersei's lip curl as she faced the truth of the matter. Whichever side Arryn declared for, should he back it fully, that side's chances would be greatly enhanced.

"Father will come."

"As I already told you, Father is busy dealing with Robb Stark in the Riverlands. He is not coming, else he would not have went to Harrenhall and allowed the boy's army to waltz by him without lifting a finger." Tyrion poured himself a glass before continuing. "He let the boy cross the Ruby Ford without so much as a skirmish." He started drinking.

"Ridiculous. Father wouldn't have let twenty thousand men cross the Ford uncontested and siege King's Landing at their leisure." Cersei was nearly beside herself in panic at the revelation. Tyrion could only assume that with the recent activity in the south, his sister and nephew had not taken much care in regarding the happenings of the Riverlands. _Only a sign of how much you do not know, sweet sister._

"And yet he did. Which means only one thing." Tyrion's grin drew wide. _As High As Honor._ "Father believes the boy is not coming south to attack _us_."

"Then wh-" Before she could finish her statement, Cersei's eyes grew as wide as her smile did upon the realization. "He's going to aid Stannis in the Stormlands. He's off to fight against Renly."

"We should count ourselves lucky. The Arryn boy will likely get crushed whilst dwindling down Renly's forces by a fair margin. It won't enough to save us while Father is still in the Riverlands, but the time it buys will allow us to prepare for Renly." It was a shame in Tyrion's mind. The boy had become so good at cyvasse, yet it seemed he was back to making more tactical mistakes. _Attacking a hundred thousand, a grand folly indeed. _"I was amazed he didn't join his cousin. But it seems as if he is pledged to follow Stannis to an early grave."

"The more that follow that fool, the better." Cersei toasted her glass to the notion before drinking it. But even after thinking Olyvar Arryn a fool, Tyrion suddenly felt that something was not right. He knew the boy to be smarter than this, and yet he was willingly marching into a death trap? Perhaps Lord Tywin's gamble would prove wrong, and the boy would indeed siege the capital as he feared. Then their father would be forced to come, just as Cersei had ordered in the first place, leaving Robb Stark uncontested in the Riverlands. Everything fell to the belief that Olyvar would march for Storm's End to aid Stannis. If he didn't, the war would likely be lost.

"We need to be careful." He warned. "If Father was wrong about Olyvar's intentions, then he will come here, and will have twenty thousand men at his back, ready to behead us all." Secretly, Tyrion cursed Tywin Lannister for simply allowing Olyvar Arryn to cross uncontested. It was a gamble that Tyrion knew was high, and if his father was wrong, they would not live for very long. But if there was ever a man that knew people better than Tyrion could, it was Lord Tywin.

"The boy is just that; a child who has never won a battle in his life." Cersei said with triumph, as if the potential battle was already won. "He won't be able to organize his men properly. By the time he has them together, Father will sweep from the Riverlands and crush him."

"You are underestimating him and Robb Stark. The Arryn boy has Yohn Royce as his top commander, I would say that keeps him as a formidable piece on the board. The question is whether his duty to Stannis supersedes his desire for vengeance. And since I've already made the point about how he hates you and Joffrey, we don't seem to have the odds in our favor."

"If so, then we must prepare for siege." Cersei said fiercely. "I will have Janos Slynt prepare the walls."

"Agreed, although I don't believe that it will be all that necessary." Tyrion said confidently. "If the boy decides to make a stop, I do think that I can talk him out of taking our heads first."

"And how do you propose to do that?" His sister asked in suspicion.

"Simple. We remind him that if he deals with us, his precious Lord Stannis' head gets chopped off. That will be enough to drive him away."

"And if it isn't?"

Tyrion leaned back in his chair and looked at Cersei with a grin. "Then I'm afraid we will be joining your late husband in the grave very shortly." Tyrion wondered if the time he had spent on the Kingsroad with Olyvar would spare his head from sharing a spike next to Joffrey's. "Speaking of which, sweet sister, how did you do in dear Robert?"

* * *

A/N: And so Tywin Lannister's plan/gamble reveals itself. Although I wouldn't call it much of a gamble, considering Tywin knows his enemies very well, but that's up for interpretation. The question is if Olyvar will follow through with what Tywin and Tyrion expect him to do. Guess we will see.

Someone pointed out that the Vale had 40-45K available as a levy. I've seen conflicting reports all around the internet, and until someone can finally give me an accurate assessment, I'm going to stick with 30-35K as the measurable.

KnightofHolyLight asked for my own interpretation of the Red Comet. With all of the vast theories out there, it's just so difficult to narrow anything down, especially with all the various prophecies that exist in the universe of aSoIaF. My guess, is that it serves as a signal for the Prince that was Promised, which could be any one of numerous characters. But like I said, it's so tough to really narrow anything down right now, hopefully tWoW helps lift the veil.


	28. ACOK: Olyvar II

In the chronology, I would say this falls before "ACOK: Tyrion III". It gets tougher winding Olyvar's own story with the original, but I love the challenge and I think I've kept his character and actions believable. Hope you guys are still enjoying it, thanks for 120+ reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

He sat in his tent alone for the evening, eating the bits and pieces of boar that remained from the feast with his generals earlier in the night whilst looking over reports that Colemon and Nestor Royce had sent to him along with the four thousand other men he had ordered down from the Vale. Now twenty thousand strong, his army was formidable, but not nearly enough to defeat Renly Baratheon.

"My lord?" Olyvar looked up to see Yohn Royce appear in the opening of the tent.

"Lord Yohn. Come, sit with me." Bronze Yohn took a place at the table, pouring himself a cup of wine. "I've been trying to formulate a strategy that will allow us to slowly pick off Renly's men and force him to give chase to us back up the Kingsroad."

"You would have us run instead of fight then, my liege?" Yohn raises his brow in surprise, but Olyvar knew it was a jest.

"Come, you know as well as I that Renly's men would destroy us if we fought fairly. The words of my house hardly matter in this instance."

Lord Royce flashed a grin and laughed at his lord. "Quite right. We are outnumbered heavily, as is everyone else in this war. But this strategy you are building, tell me about it."

"Certainly." Olyvar closed Colemon's report and procured the best map of Westeros that he had, laying it out bare on the table. "Renly's forces are near Highgarden." He pointed at the crown jewel of the Reach on the parchment." By attacking the Stormlands, specifically Renly's holding at Storm's End, we can draw him to the East. After that, we flee up the Kingsroad."

"I see. From there, it's only a matter of making sure his attention remains on us as we venture north." Yohn stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Such a thing would be possible, but then tell me, my lord. What would you do when we finally make it back to the Trident? Do we slip back into the Vale, behind the protection of our mountains?"

"A thought that I haven't considered. It is possible we could do that, yes." In truth, Olyvar admitted that the return to the Vale would be a safer play than his own idea. But safe plays would not win them the war, especially with their meager forces. "But I'd much rather drop Renly's host off at Tywin Lannister's door, on the grounds of Harrenhal. From there, we can use Robb's forces to help trap Tywin, and we can slip back down past everyone into the Reach, which will remain widely unguarded."

"And I assume after all of this, we will go and take King's Landing in Stannis' name." The old commander looked a tad worried. "Such risk, all for the opportunity of placing one enemy against another."

"We've risked worse before. I only wish that we had more men, it would not be as great of a risk then." The report that he had been reading before had been bleak in outlook. One of the tasks that he had entrusted to Colemon and Nestor Royce had been to obtain a detailed outlook of the Vale, from able-bodied men to an examination of crop numbers and the treasury. And while the latter two had been reports as being excellent, their manpower was severely overestimated.

"Aye, Robert's Rebellion proved to be costly to the Vale." Yohn Royce said, a glimmer in his eyes as he seemingly remembered back to his days fighting the Targaryen loyalists. "So many men lost. I remember your father lamenting about how the majority we had lost had all been quite young, as well. It's difficult to raise a new generation of youth with half of the previous killed."

"Indeed. Maester Colemon estimated that we only have ten thousand more men we could call on at any given moment, and even then I suspect they are all as green as me when it comes to actual fighting." Olyvar took a sip of his own wine, leaning back in his chair. "At least I sent word from Riverrun before we departed to call down the extras that were guarding the Bloody Path. Twenty thousand is better than sixteen."

"Agreed." Olyvar looked to Yohn Royce's face and saw the man was looking down, seemingly troubled. "My lord, I must confess to you that I am doubtful about a decision of yours."

"Why?" Olyvar was taken aback. _He just said it was a good strategy. _"Do you really think slipping back into the Vale truly is the better option?"

"It's not about strategy, my lord. It's about your marital status." Olyvar's nervousness turned into apprehension. _Not you, Lord Royce. Anyone but you. _"The betrothal to Myrcella Baratheon must be called off. I continue hearing whispers throughout the camp, from your own commanders, about how deplorable it is that you continue associating yourself with an enemy."

"But Myrcella is not the enemy." He pleaded. He did not want to argue with Bronze Yohn on the matter. He had enough of warring with his own lords over the matter of Myrcella. "She's innocent in all of this, and doesn't deserve to be slighted."

"My lord, I'm afraid you do not understand. Your men, your cousin's men, the men of the Baratheon brothers. None care whether the Princess is innocent of all of this madness that has been presented to us." The Lord of Runestone said with a stern voice. "I understand your reasoning for keeping the betrothal, but it will only hurt us in the war."

"Do you?" Olyvar answered with a tone that bordered on anger. "Then explain to me, Lord Royce. I am eager to hear it."

"As you wish." Yohn took a deep breath before beginning. "You have spent nearly your entire life living in the Red Keep, growing up with Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen Baratheon. They are, I'm sure, the closest things you had as siblings until Robert was born, and even then you would have been near seven. Even if you had utter distain for Joffrey, I'm sure you developed affections for the Princess and Prince. Am I wrong?"

Olyvar wanted to speak, but couldn't get the words to develop. Yohn Rocye gave a soft smile before continuing. "I have no doubts I am right on the matter. Those affections, however, conflict with your duty. You wish to serve Stannis Baratheon, yet continue to keep the betrothal with Myrcella active. Dare I say you fear what Stannis will do to her should we win this war?"

He had not felt himself moving as his commander was talking, but once Yohn had completed his statements, Olyvar was well aware he was leaning over the table in his chair, looking at his commander incredibly. "Lord Royce, you are a dangerous man."

"Then it is a good thing I am loyal." Olyvar chuckled as Yohn jested. _How lucky I am to have such a man leading my army._

"You have been right with everything you've assumed. I don't do it out of love, although I think her sweet enough to where I could perhaps have fallen for her, given time." Olyvar looked away from Yohn to the table, reliving his childhood memories. "She was innocent and kind, pure as anything could be. And beautiful, gods the very image of her mother. Save her nature. Myrcella is not as cruel as Cersei."

"You say you do not love her, my lord. But from your voice, and the way you describe her, I'd say you are as close to loving the Princess as anyone could be."

"Perhaps I am, I wouldn't know. I still feel as if I'm far too young to feel such things." Another soft laugh escaped his mouth. "When Robert first suggested it, I thought him mad. I was only three and ten, she was only ten herself. Now we've both grown a year, and I find myself warring against her brother. What a shame, the idea of her being my wife grew on me every day we spent on the Kingsroad."

"I know you want to protect her, my lord. And I am sure that you will be able to convince Stannis to do no harm to the girl or her younger brother when we take this city." As he spoke sympathetically, Yohn Royce put his hand on Olyvar's shoulder. "But we must break this betrothal. It does not mean you must entertain suitors now, but it would help your image in the eyes of your men, which from experience is important."

Olyvar thought hard about everything. He did not want to slight Myrcella's honor by breaking the betrothal because of her now-known bastardy, such things were trivial in his mind. But Yohn was correct. They were on opposite sides of the war, and if he was to gain the full support of his men, he would have to break it. _No, _he suddenly thought. _Not in a dishonorable way such as this._ He looked back at Yohn. "How many days are we from King's Landing?"

"Two or three, I believe."

"Ready a messenger falcon." Olyvar was glad that the men who had joined them had brought the falcons that his father and forefathers had raised in the Eyrie to deliver swift messages, often outpacing the ravens of the Citadel by considerable time. "I wish to inform the capital of my impending arrival."

* * *

A/N: Well, considering King's Landing is on the way to Storm's End, why not stop it and say hi? :)

I hope you guys accept the explanation for the Vale's forces. Considering estimates ranged from 25-45K, I figured I would meet slightly in the middle and go 35K and explain it as the Vale lacking manpower, an effect of Robert's Rebellion. Besides, having a fully reinforced Vale force would take away from what I'm going to be doing with the story anyways.

To Mikle Silver: Although there are theories, there isn't an exact explanation regarding Robert Arryn's shaking syndrome. Some believe it's epilepsy, others think it's a result of his stunted intellectual and physical development. Perhaps we aren't meant to ever know the real answer.

Always remember to leave a review. It's greatly appreciated. Have a good day.


	29. ACOK: Davos I and Tyrion II

For those who are reading along, the Davos portion is an add on to the canon 'ACOK: Davos I' chapter. The Tyrion portion falls chronologically after Tyrion discovers wildfire in 'ACOK: Tyrion V'

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

Davos I

"It's time to try another hawk, Ser Davos. A _red _hawk."

"Why not a falcon?" Davos said swiftly to his king. "I hear word that your former ward is marching south in your name. I've heard he left Riverrun in a fury after his cousin was made a king by his men."

"As he should have." Stannis said with iron in his voice. "At least one of Hoster Tully's grandsons honors his oaths to the rightful King."

"The boy only honors you because of your tutelage." Davos pointed out. "What would he think when he hear that you have abandoned the gods?"

"What point are you trying to make in your words, Onion Knight?" Stannis' patience was running thin, and Davos reminded himself that he needed to tread lightly. _The red witch has enticed him._

"Your Grace, I'm merely suggesting that the red woman may not be the answer. You still have your ward and his army in your service, and he will fight for you loyally. It would be wise to not give the boy any reason to doubt you, unlikely as it seems."

Stannis pondered the idea. "A falcon or a hawk, you say?" Stannis looked back to Davos. "I say why not both? If both serve me and honor me as they say, then the two can only be advantages. And in our current situation, we are in need of as many advantages as possible."

"As you say, Your Grace." But Davos was not convinced. Should Stannis and his red woman meet with Olyvar at Storm's End, the Onion Knight could only project disaster. Then Stannis would be left with only one bird, and it was not the bird that Davos wanted.

* * *

Tyrion II

"Why would he want a meeting right outside the walls? He knows our archers can kill him whenever they want to, right?" Bronn questioned. "Boy seems quite stupid if you ask me."

"I assure you, he knows exactly what he's going." _Yes, _Tyrion thought to himself bitterly. _Even that damn falcon that delivered the message and then flew overhead for the day. _Olyvar Arryn's message was bold and demanding, but Tyrion knew it was a front for delivering a bigger message. A message aimed for the smallfolk. "He did all of this purposefully."

"Seems foolish, if you ask me." Bronn shrugged. The letter had come only a few days prior from one of the messenger falcons that the Eyrie used in the event of emergencies. In it, Olyvar Arryn requested an audience with a representative of the crown save Joffrey or Cersei, a slight his sister had been outraged by. If the chosen representative did not meet him out in the field, he would begin the siege of the capital. "I wouldn't announce that I was coming to my enemy's gate if I was intending to attack them."

"That's because he's not going to attack us." Tyrion said simply.

"And how do you know that?" Bronn asked.

Tyrion had to pause for a moment. "I don't for sure. But the boy has an honorable nature about him, one that I can respect. Thankfully I've kept him as good company up the Kingsroad, so I doubt he will take my head." If truth be told, he would have liked to send Littlefinger out there in place of himself, but Tyrion could not trust him. Despite his service and relationship with Olyvar's mother, Baelish was still a Valeman, and if left to his own devices he would likely sell the city out the Olyvar for a handsome reward. He had to explain that to Cersei enough times already.

"Something tells me he won't be so honorable." The sellsword's cynical nature was truly shining through today. "Especially when we have his cousin."

"_Cousins._" Tyrion hissed. "Do be sure to not mention the fact we lost one. He will not take too kindly to it, and I would much rather see him go south than stay outside of the walls for an extended period of time." The two rode out of the Dragon's Gate north to meet their visitors. Mere moments after they had left the safety of the walls, Tyrion saw them; twenty thousand men had set up camp in the distance, a distance that made Tyrion nervous.

"Here." Tyrion and his eight guards stopped a distance away from the gate, waiting for the representatives of the Arryn army to ride out and meet them. It was a spot they had chosen the night previous, near the Road to Rosby, where the strong smell coming from the Narrow Sea swept across the land. They sat on their horses for a few moments, waving the Baratheon flag to signal their arrival to the enemy. Not long after, Tyrion saw a group riding out to meet them, the sigil of the Arryns held high.

As the group got closer, he could recognize the brown hair of Olyvar Arryn leading the men on horseback. _Good, he came himself. _When the boy came into close proximity, he shouted to the Lord of the Eyrie. "Lord Arryn. So good you could come yourself."

"I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Olyvar gave a grin in Tyrion's direction. "I would have expected your sister to have met me out here."

"What would that have done besides give you cause to subject this city to siege?" Tyrion had never seen his sister rage the way she had after having the letter read to her and seeing the falcon flying over the city. "You've already stirred up enough trouble for me after that little messenger of yours stayed an extra day."

"If I had known you were in the capital, I would have tried to rush here a little sooner." Tyrion forced a smile to meet Olyvar's smirk. _Unlikely. You took your time for a reason. _The smallfolk had taken the falcon as a warning to the capital; Olyvar Arryn was coming to take the city. This, along with the supply shortage, created paranoia. Riots had broken out, memories of the Sack fourteen years previous coming back to the minds of the peasants.

"I am sure. But tell me, my friend. Why is it you stop here, when Stannis sails for Storm's End as we speak? Surely you haven't abandoned your King to the mercy of his brother?" Reports had come to them from their spies that Stannis was preparing to set sail with his fleet to the ancestral stronghold of his family, Storm's End. Tyrion suspected that Renly would take his time, but respond eventually. "It would be quite useless to take the city in his name if he's dead."

"Oh, I'm not here to fight unless I have to. No, I'm simply here to pick up a few things I left in the city." Olyvar looked to his companions, each giving a nod, before turning back to Tyrion. "I'd rather we talk alone about these matters, if you don't mind."

"I would mind, actually. If you haven't noticed, I don't necessarily have the advantage here."

"Tyrion, are we not friends?"

"Our friendship hardly matters at the moment. Not when you have twenty thousand men outside of the gates of a city I'm trying to protect." Tyrion said cynically. Olyvar Arryn continued smirking, which irritated him. _Why are you in such a jolly mood now, dear Olyvar?_ "I'd feel a lot safer with my men around me."

"We wouldn't even have to leave this spot, Tyrion. The same spot _you _chose to ride to." Olyvar's smirk had begun to transform ever so slightly into the same serious face Tyrion remembered seeing on the boy's face every time they played cyvasse. "Tell me, why here?"

Tyrion's annoyance grew. "You are far smarter than your age should allow. Did you suspect me from the beginning?"

"I had suspicions that there would be some type of plot, regardless of who was sent out." The pleasant tone was now gone, replaced with a voice of iron. _Like his mentor, no doubt._ "That's why I sent scouts throughout the area to check if there was some force to intercept and capture me. And to my surprise, they found nothing. No archers, no cavalry. So what's the plan? Or have you submitted to leaving yourself completely vulnerable?"

It was Tyrion's turn to smirk. "What? Can't you smell it?" The boy's eyes narrowed before opening wide. "Ahh, now you understand. The sea isn't the only thing you're smelling, is it?"

"My lord?" One of Olyvar's men questioned the boy, and Tyrion saw a few of the Arryn men reaching for the hilts of their swords before the boy held his hand up, commanding them to hold.

"Wildfire?" Olyvar questioned, Tyrion returning the inquiry with a nod, the expression of the Lord of the Eyrie growing grimmer, to Tyrion's secret enjoyment. "So, you intend to burn yourself as a last resort?"

"I'd rather not, but you understand I cannot take any chances." Tyrion realized how mad he must have sounded. The stories of how the Mad King used wildfire and how his victims had screamed in agony until their deaths were terrifying to him. But what other way was there to be sure Olyvar would not attempt something?

"So I assume one of your men has something hot enough that will spark it?" Olyvar was not looking at Tyrion with disgust, as most of the other Arryn men were. _No, _Tyrion thought. _He understands. It's war, after all. _

"Indeed. Should there be some sort of attempt on me, I assure you we will be going to one of the seven hells in a ball of flames." The pair of them sat there for what felt like the longest time. "I know you don't want to burn alive out here, so I suggest we start talking about what you came for."

"I suppose so." Olyvar moved about his saddle, apparently trying to get comfortable. "I came here for the bones of my uncle, as well as his greatsword. Should these not be given to me, or should I come to face a horrible, burning death," _Don't look at me like that. _"My men will lay siege to the city and _take _them, along with my cousins."

"Those are your demands? Why not ask for your cousins?"

"Please." Olyvar shot back bitterly at Tyrion's sarcastic remark. "I'm well aware of the status my cousins hold as hostages. You aren't going to release them to me, you would lose all of your leverage over Robb and myself." Tyrion knew his words were true. Besides, Cersei would never willingly release the girls without getting Jaime back.

"Well, if a sword and a corpse are going to spare us, I'm more than willing-" Tyrion was cut short by Olyvar, who held his hand up before speaking.

"Furthermore, I want to see my cousins, to ensure of their well-being." Tyrion kept his face stone, hiding his inner turmoil. If we were to agree to this, Olyvar would discover that Arya Stark was missing, and then only the gods knew how he would react. If he didn't, the boy would attack the city and find out for himself. Either way, Tyrion saw visions of his head removed from his body.

"I cannot allow that." He said swiftly. "You are asking for a great deal without the guarantee of our safety. What's to stop you from taking the girls and making your way up to Winterfell, or storming the city?"

"Is swearing upon my honor good enough?" Olyvar asked. "It seems to do the trick with everyone else. You know how much honor means to my house."

"Yes, but doing things with honor isn't exactly beneficial for one's health these days, is it?" Tyrion pointed his thumb back in the direction of the capital. "Your uncle can unfortunately attest to that."

"Wretched Imp." One of the Arryn men shouted at him. He wasn't very old, possessing brown hair and a wider nose than most.

"Ease yourself, Ser Donnel." Another man shouted at the one known as Donnel. This one had a commanding voice, with a wise face and thick beard. He looked to be one of Olyvar's top advisers. "We are not here to let our tempers get in the way." But Tyrion was no longer paying attention to the voices of the Valemen. His eyes were locked with the sharp brown of Olyvar Arryn, who was giving him a look he had only seen once before; the same look he had given Joffrey back in Winterfell.

"I thank you for reminding me of my uncle, Lord Tyrion. My terms still stand. I will see my cousins on this exact spot before the day ends. If not, this city will fall, and I will place the heads of your nephew and sister on spikes for all to see. Then, I will determine your fate, my friend." Without another word, Olyvar Arryn turned his horse and spurred it back to his camp, leaving Tyrion and his guard standing on the earth soaked in wildfire.

"Well, that went better than expected." Bronn mocked from behind him.

"We have to give him what he wants. There is no other choice, we are not ready to endure a full siege yet." Tyrion lamented at the thought of telling his sister about the negotiations. She would likely say something about how he should have sacrificed himself to kill the Young Falcon, but Tyrion knew it would only mean her and her children's deaths by more savage means. "Come, let's retrieve young Sansa and try making due with what we can."

"We should have just killed the boy. Would have made it a lot easier." Bronn suggested.

"No, we need to use him to buy us time. His men against Renly's will give us an extra day or two to prepare the city." Tyrion knew that Olyvar was desperate to aid Stannis, so desperate that he wouldn't actually attack without provocation. Even if he wanted to get his cousin's back, he also understood the threat Renly posed to everyone. "He's doesn't want to attack us." He reassured himself.

"Aye. Not until he realizes that we only have one of his cousins." The sellsword told a grim truth. Tyrion's mind was racing faster than it had ever raced before. He needed to find something else that would appease Olyvar Arryn.

* * *

A/N: Battle of wits: Tyrion 1, Olyvar 0. Round Two coming soon.

Honestly, it took some time coming up with the concept of Tyrion's deception. I knew I wanted to use wildfire in some way, a basic trap is something Tyrion knew Olyvar, or one of his advisers, would have suspected. I also remember, perhaps incorrectly, that wildfire had a sort of smell about it. From there, I figured the incoming smell of the sea would make for a perfect masking agent to the wildfire, and all would be set.

As always, reviews are welcome and very helpful. Have a good day guys and gals.


	30. ACOK: Sansa I

This chapter occurs a few hours after the previous one.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Sansa, you are not to reveal your sister's disappearance under any circumstances. Do you understand?" Those were the words that the Queen had left her as Sansa departed from the Red Keep towards the gate that would lead her to her cousin. She had heard rumors that Olyvar Arryn's forces were just outside of the walls, preparing for siege if his demands were not met. What those demands were, Sansa did not know.

_You've come for me, haven't you Olyvar? _Sansa had not been so full of hope since her father's death by Joffrey's command. The falcon that had flown so proudly over the city had instilled fear into her once beloved Joffrey, causing him to curse her cousin and brother. He too had warned her of the consequences of mentioning anything about Arya to Olyvar, motioning towards one of his Kingsguard, Ser Meryn Trant. She had been so afraid she could only nod.

"Uncle, is Olyvar well?" Sansa, however, was not alone in the carriage that would take her to Olyvar. Inside was the Lord Tyrion Lannister, looking more troubled than she had ever seen him before, and Princess Myrcella, who Sansa recalled was Olyvar's betrothed. The Princess looked absolutely stunning, her golden curls going past her shoulders, dressed in her finest Baratheon robes.

"Of course he is. The boy is as you have remembered him, although he's grown a tad." The Princess gave a relieved look at her uncle's words before turning to Sansa with a smile. As much as she wanted to hate the girl, Sansa found her company to be the most relieving. Myrcella always talked very highly of Olyvar, and on her eleventh nameday had asked Sansa if Olyvar would send her a gift, despite it being wartime. _She loves him, even while he fights against her brother. _That much had been evident every time she attempted to defend Olyvar from Joffrey's words.

Sansa watched as they rode out of the gate into the field. There she saw an area surrounded by men, many wearing Lannister red but some also sporting the blue of the Arryns. Perhaps the most perplexing part of the scene was the large table that had been set up inside of the circle the soldiers formed, along with flags at each corner, Baratheon and Arryn on their respective sides.

And at the end of the table stood a young boy, coated in light armor with a shield on his arm, falcon helm sitting on the table. "Olyvar." Sansa gasped as she saw how gallant her cousin looked, the Arryn sigil embroidered on his shield. He looked deadly serious, watching as their carriage brought them forth. Sansa realized that she could see him, but he could not see them.

Finally, the carriage stopped just short of the table. "My ladies, this is our stop." Lord Lannister rose from his seat and made for the door, exiting and holding the door open for them. Sansa had been instructed to be the first to exit. She stood up from her seat and followed suit, the smell of the Narrow Sea meeting her as she did. She felt her blue dress flutter with the wind that came off from the ocean to the east.

"Sansa." Olyvar said with relief as his serious demeanor broke, bringing a smile to her face. _He doesn't hate me._ She had hated him during their final meeting, in a time when she had not yet seen Joffrey for what he truly was. But now, she felt only gratitude for his silent forgiveness. Then she saw his eyes shoot back to the carriage, and his face dissolved into shock. "_Gods."_

Sansa herself turned back and saw that Myrcella was exiting the carriage now. Her grace and elegance was unrivaled in Sansa's eyes, the blonde curls bouncing and her emerald eyes mesmerizing. "Lord Arryn." The princess curtsied, and as Sansa turned back, she saw that Olyvar's jaw was still unhinged. _Does he love her as well? _Sansa thought she had heard a story that was similar to this. The story told of a man who loved a woman from a rival house. From what she could remember of the story, it had a tragic end.

"Uncle, Sansa." Myrcella looked to her fellow companions, sweetness and grace in her voice. "May I ask for a moment with my betrothed?"

"Of course, sweetling. My lady, if you would please." Tyrion motioned for Sansa to walk from the table, and only stopped when they were out of earshot. The Lannister and Arryn men had done the same, all with their hands on the hilts of their swords or readying their crossbows.

"What are they talking about?" Sansa asked as she saw Myrcella approach Olyvar, observing that their lips were moving, alternating turns to talk. She could see that Myrcella looked slightly sad now.

"She's breaking her betrothal with him." Sansa looked down to see the Imp too wore the same sad face, if not a bit sadder. "She realizes that their pairing cannot last throughout this war. He likely realizes it as well."

"But they seem to be so fond of each other." Sansa said, certain her assessment was correct. "Why must they break their betrothal?"

"A shame, isn't it?" The Imp sounded bitter now. "Two who are so fond of one another having to break their promise to one another, when another pairing which harbors no such feelings must persist?" Being reminded of her own betrothal to Joffrey made Sansa feel even more sadness for her cousin and the princess.

"It's not fair." Sansa could feel tears swell up in her eyes, but she forced herself to not release them. What she would have given once to have Joffrey look at her the way Olyvar was looking at Myrcella.

"War is not fair, my lady. It causes brothers to kill one another, forces fathers to punish sons, and robs the chance of love from the hearts of many. Just like your aunt Lyanna was stolen from Robert Baratheon." Before Sansa could respond, she saw Olyvar bend his knee to Myrcella, bowing low. She gave another curtsy before walking back to the carriage, and Sansa could see the outlines of tears on the face of the young princess. "Come, it is your time now."

Sansa approached slowly at first before rushing headlong into the arms of her cousin. "Sansa, how I've missed you." Sansa didn't want to leave his arms. She wanted him to take her back to Winterfell, to Bran and Rickon. To her mother and Robb, who were waiting for her at Riverrun. But as she remembered them, the thought of Arya tortured her. Memories of how they had fought before their father's death had been too hard for her to bare.

"Where is Arya?" Olyvar separated from her slightly, looking over at Tyrion with a demanding voice. His face turned from compassionate to fierce in an instant. Sansa wanted to tell him more than anything, but her fear continued to hold her back. _Olyvar, she's gone. They don't have her._

"We don't have her." Sansa whipped her head back to view Tyrion Lannister in shock. _Why did he tell him?! _"Since your uncle's execution, my sister has seemingly misplaced her. Go on, ask your cousin if I speak truth."

Olyvar looked at Sansa. "It's true." She said without thinking, her fear of the queen no longer holding her tongue. "Arya escaped, she escaped the Red Keep the day Father was arrested." She made sure to keep her own voice silent enough for the men surrounding them to not hear as she confirmed Tyrion's words to her cousin.

"Where is-"

"We do not know, Lord Arryn. I come here, bringing you the truth that my sister would deny you, in hopes that you will forgive me for the breaking of your betrothal with my niece." Tyrion looked solemn, Olyvar looked lost. Sansa did not know what she was feeling as she looked between the two. "I only offer you the thought that she is living safely in the capital, or has perhaps escaped from the city during the mayhem of Lord Stark's death."

Sansa looked back to Olyvar, his fierce eyes so full of uncertainly. Sansa would have pleaded to him to not trust Tyrion Lannister, yet what he had just done was a secret the queen could have had his head for. She, too, did not know what to make of it. Finally, Olyvar spoke. "On our friendship, you would swear this to me?"

"Of course." Tyrion nodded, his solemn look persisting. "Even in war, there are some things I can still respect. Love for family is one. What type of friend would I be if I didn't share this information with you?"

Olyvar nodded before he looked at Sansa once more. "Sansa, you must listen. I cannot take you with me."

"Why not?!" Despair crept back into her mind as the words met her, and she did not care that she had shouted. She had been so sure, so certain that he had come to save her. _Perhaps he still hates me. _

He gave her a soft smile, and brushed her hair. "I will save you, I promise. But I need to save someone who will help me in doing so. Someone who is the rightful king. After I help him, I will come back here for you."

"It's not fair." Even after being reassured by him, Sansa still cried into his shoulder, the cold armor meeting her face. "I hate it here. I want you to bring me back to Mother."

"And I will. But I cannot do it now. I'm too weak." Sansa was confused. How could it be that he was the weak one when she felt the weakest out of the pair? "For that, I need you to remain strong. Trust Lord Tyrion and Myrcella. They will aid you in dealing with your hardships. I promise I won't be too much longer."

Sansa brought up whatever courage she had left, and forced her lips into a smile, ignoring the tears flowing down her face. She nodded her understanding. _I must be strong for him. For Mother, for the boys. For Arya._

"My Lady, it is time." Tyrion offered his hand to her, which she took. But before she could be led back, she felt Olyvar's grip on her waist tighten.

"Tyrion, about the rest of our deal..."

"Lord Stark's bones and sword are being sent separately to your camp. I trust no harm will come to the messenger." Olyvar gave a nod, and looked at Sansa one more time. They shared a look together, and she could see he was in pain for what he had to do. But eventually, he loosened his grip on her. As she was being led back to the carriage, she turned one last time to gain a peak at her kin, and saw a scene that broke her heart. He stood alone at the table for a moment, a defeated look in his eyes, before taking his helm off of the surface of the table and walking back towards his own men, blue cape fluttering in the same way as her dress had.

As she entered the carriage, she sat down next to the princess, who like her was fighting back tears. "I'm sorry, my princess." Sansa said, in an attempt to show genuine condolences through her tears.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa. Even as my family wars with yours, you still show me kindness." Sansa saw a single tear fall from Myrcella's smiling face. It was a forced smile, but still as beautiful as any smile Sansa had ever seen. _She is brave. _Sansa thought, determination building up in her. _I must be as well._

* * *

_A/N: _Poor Sansa. It seems she will play the little bird a bit longer, trapped in her cage.

Ten internet cookies to whoever can identify my inspiration for the Myrcella/Olyvar pairing. Tough break for those two as well.

And so with Ice and Ned's bones, Olyvar is off to the Stormlands to aid Stannis. What do you guys make of the trust between Tyrion and Olyvar?

Hope you guys and gals enjoyed. Have a good day/night!


	31. ACOK: Catelyn II

This chapter is a rewrite of 'ACOK: Catelyn III', and begins when Catelyn starts to chastise the Baratheon brothers for what she perceives to be their petty argument. The chapter goes from their to an alternate ending I've written. Hope you guys enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

_This will not do. _Catelyn had been observing the exchange between Renly and Stannis nervously. Both brothers were challenging the other openly. Stannis naming Renly a usurper, Renly claiming none wanted Stannis as king. She needed to stop this. "Listen to yourselves! Have-" But Catelyn was cut off, as she herself listened to a noise in the distance. _Hooves? _Unmistakable was the sound of a group of horses galloping. Catelyn turned her head to observe another group of men riding fiercely towards them.

"Swords!" Both sides had drawn steel, prepared to fight the newcomer. But as they approached closer, Catelyn could make out the banner being carried by one of the group. The unmistakable blue backdrop, with a silver falcon and crescent moon. _No._

"You said there were none who wanted me as king, Renly." Stannis remarked crudely. "I present a contradiction to your claim." Catelyn had hope he would not show, but her fears had come to pass. Olyvar had come to Storm's End and not King's Landing, and as he rode up alongside of his king, she could see the confusion on her nephew's face.

"Aunt Catelyn? Why are you here?"

"What's this, a falcon chick is your best supporter?" Catelyn didn't have time to respond before Renly began mocking his opponents once more. "Have you fallen so low you must rely on a child, Brother?"

Olyvar seemed to pay no attention to Renly's jab, instead focusing on Catelyn, awaiting his aunt's answer. "I've come as Robb's envoy, looking to parlay an alliance with Lord Renly. The North desires an alliance with the southron lords to protect against Tywin Lannister."

"A folly, I assure you." Stannis Baratheon spoke once more. "Your son is a traitor who should have had the sense of his cousin. His day will come, and the North will bend its knee again."

"That we can agree on." Catelyn was furious with the assessments of the Baratheon brothers, both so eager to dismiss the North and to continue their petty squabble. But in her anger, her eyes fell from Renly to Olyvar, who was looking at both stags with a cool stare. It seemed as if he was no longer holding a grudge against Robb for their scuffle, which Catelyn was grateful for.

Olyvar began speaking with a cold voice that reflected the look in his eyes. "I would have thought you would have had the sense to join on King Stannis' side, Renly. Have you not been informed of his findings? The findings of my father?"

"What? That Joffrey and Tommen, along with your precious betrothed, are bastards?" Catelyn saw Olyvar's hand twitch in the direction of his sword at the mention of the princess. "Yes, my brother's raven made it to me. But I am curious. What proof he can conjure to make it believable?"

"Do you name me a liar?" Stannis responded angrily.

"You only name yourself as such should you not give any of us reasonable doubt." Renly said simply.

"I took my suspicion to Lord Arryn's father for investigation." Stannis replied.

"And not to our dear brother?"

"You know as well as I that Robert would not have listened to me about the matter." Stannis spat. "He would have written me off as self-serving. It was better to have Lord Arryn tell him. Robert loved him more than he loved either of us."

"And not Jon Arryn is dead. A shame, you sharing your suspicions likely got him killed." Renly turned to Olyvar. "How does that make you feel, Lord Olyvar? The fact _your king_ got your father killed?"

"Lord Renly that is enough!" Catelyn would not have her family insulted in front of her, and took action, forcing eyes of all that were present to the Stark banner. "I have come here in an attempt to parlay, but you will not see reason. Is it not clear that the Lannisters are our real enemy? Should we not align ourselves against them?"

"What a shame. Your king causes your father's death, and now you've lead your troops to their death in his name as well." Renly's hand went into his cloak, causing Stannis to reach for his sword. But before he could draw, Renly revealed a peach, holding it out in a charitable expression. "Would either of you like a peach? They come from Highgarden, simply exquisite taste."

"I've tasted one before, Lord Renly." Olyvar said coldly as Renly took a bite. "I must say, it did not agree with me."

"Ahh, but you are young." Renly whipped his mouth with the back of his hand after throwing aside his fruit. "If only you were going to live long enough to truly enjoy life. _Winter is coming, _after all_._" Catelyn did not take kindly to the words of her house being used by another, but held back her protest.

"Who's to say I won't?" Olyvar shrugged. "The battle is not yet fought. Perhaps I will survive to see you tomorrow yet."

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to have Ser Loras see to it that you are brought before me on your knees." Renly said confidently, further earning him Catelyn's ire. _That is the third time you've threatened my family, Lord Renly._ But to Catelyn's surprise, Olyvar was smiling, dropping the cold demeanor of his mentor in favor of the smiling face Catelyn knew from his time spent at Winterfell.

"I feat that will be a mistake, Lord Renly. I'm not much of a gardener, but I do think I can put a flower in the ground if it was required of me." This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Renly's usually fair face scrunched up at the threat that was aimed at the pride of his Rainbow Guard. "Besides, roots don't reach into the sky, where the falcon dances."

"Enough, Olyvar." Stannis' authoritative voice silenced the young boy, although it did not remove the smirk on his face. _He is playing a dangerous game. _Catelyn understood that the numbers were still in Renly's favor, even with an extra twenty thousand joining Stannis. The younger Baratheon still had four men for every one the elder had. Yet Stannis did not waver. "We are not here to be childish. I'll give you until sunrise, Renly."

"For what, might I ask? The time to bring forth my entire host and crush you and your ward, who is an even bigger fool than you?" Renly's word had finally cracked Stannis' composure. Catelyn watched as he pulled his sword from the scabbard, and felt as heat radiated from the steel. It was bright, forcing Catelyn to shield her eyes with her hand as she left her horse lean back.

"You have mocked me for the last time, Renly. I will not allow it again!" Stannis thundered.

"Sheath your sword!" Brienne the Blue called out, drawing her own sword and moving between the Baratheons. But Catelyn watched Olyvar draw his blade as well, preparing to defend his liege. She couldn't help but to feel a sense of pride in how he looked the part of a knight proper, sword and shield drawn in defense of his king. _If only Robb was his king. _

"Enough! Can't you see this is exactly what the Lannisters want?" But none paid attention to Catelyn's pleas of reason. Just like they had not in Riverrun, when she simply wanted her girls back and for peace to return._  
_

"I warn you one final time, Brother. Strike your banners and come to me before the dawn. I will forgive this betrayal, and reward you with Storm's End, as well as name you my heir until I bare a son. If not, I shall destroy you without mercy."

Renly laughed. "A pretty sword and a loyal ward. Do you think this will save you, Stannis? Against all that Highgarden and the Stormlands have to offer? Even your wife's own house joins my side. Pray, what chance have you to defeat me, let alone _destroy _me?"

"You will see at dawn, Renly. If you choose not to yield, you will see." The Lord of Dragonstone sheathed his bright sword and turned his horse to ride off.

"I do hope your new god is merciful, Stannis." Renly called to him as Stannis' men rode alongside of him to Storm's End once more. Only the lingering red priestess remained amongst them, giving Renly a confident look.

"Look to your own sins, Lord Renly." With that, she turned her horse to follow, but not before she threw a look in the direction of Olyvar, a look the boy and Catelyn did not let go unnoticed. Her nephew stayed behind as his king rode away, looking at Renly.

"I pray I may have a moment with my lady aunt. I have gifts to give her." He did not bow to Renly, but addressed him in a kindly matter as he sheathed his sword and lowered his shield. Catelyn was confused with what he was speaking about. _Gifts? What gifts?_

"I suppose I can allow it. What kind of a king would I be if I didn't allow a man to hold council with his family before battle?" Renly's voice was full of disdain as he looked from Olyvar to Catelyn. "Perhaps you can speak sense to the boy. I pray you return to my camp in the evening, Lady Stark. And hopefully you bring Lord Arryn along."

Catelyn rode with Olyvar to the camp he had set up for his forces, which was nearby to Storm's End. "Nephew, how wonderful it is to see you unharmed." She embraced her nephew with eagerness and joy after they had entered his tent. "Gods, you've grown taller."

"I keep hearing that." Olvyar said, a bit of blush coming through his cheeks. "If I had known you were here, I would have sent for you."

"That hardly matters now." Catelyn sat on one of the chairs set up in the tent, which was quite plain in comparison to Renly's own. It seemed as if her nephew had been raised with modesty in mind, at least in regards to war. "Stannis and Renly are committed to this battle. The folly of it all."

"Perhaps we can avoid battle all together." Catelyn looked at her nephew, intrigued. "I've come up with a plan to destroy the Lannisters first. We need only abandon this siege and lead Renly's host up the Kingsroad. We can drop them off at King's Landing, or even better, at Tywin Lannister's feet at Harrenhal."

"A dangerous gamble. I fear for Sansa and Arya's safety in the capital when it comes under siege." The thought of her girls enduring the siege, the possibility of what could happen. Such thoughts had haunted Catelyn's dreams for many a night, as well as her pleas to the Mother to keep them safe.

"Aunt Catelyn, Tyrion Lannister allowed me to meet with Sansa before I arrived here. She is well." He added quickly, holding his hand up to silence her. "Lord Tyrion has promised to keep her safe from serious harm. Should the Red Keep come under siege, I have his assurances he will find a safe place for her to hide."

"Do you trust him?" She asked with uncertainty.

"Yes, I do." He knelt as he took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. "He's told me that Arya has escaped Cersei's clutches. It's likely she's fled the capital."

"_What?!"_ She could not help but let out a shrill shriek. "Arya isn't in the possession of the Lannisters?"

"That's what Lord Tyrion has told me. I've sent men back up the Kingsroad to see if she may have escaped the capital. From my understanding, a company of the Night's Watch left the capital on the same day as Uncle's death-"

"She may be with them." She didn't need her nephew to explain any further. _The gods are gracious! _"She will be on her way to Winterfell as we speak."

"Aunt Catelyn, if we find Arya, I have instructed my men to secure her and bring her to the Eyrie for safe keeping." The boy said seriously, yet possessing a smile. "She will be safer there. Not even the Lannisters can breach it."

Catelyn wanted to disagree with him, but she knew he spoke truth. Bringing Arya to Riverrun, in the middle of Lannister and Stark hostilities, would only put her in further danger. The Vale was the safest place in the Seven Kingdom's now. She would be safe there with Lysa and Robert, especially now that Olyvar had asserted his rule. Even if she wanted more than anything to have her daughter back in her arms, Arya's safety was paramount.

"Ah, I nearly forgot." The boy rose quickly and walked to the opposite side of the tent. "The other gifts that I have for you." Catelyn watched as the boy tossed back a fabric that way laying on the table before picking up something that looked quite large. Only after he turned did she identify the object.

"Ice." She breathed as Olyvar returned to a knee, laying the ancestral greatsword of the Starks on her lap. Her hands shook as she gripped it, the blade that Ilyn Payne had used by Joffrey's command to take her husband's life. She felt happy to have it, yet haunted at the same time.

"I also bare another, sadder gift." Her eyes left the greatsword and met the sad brown irises of her nephew. "Lord Tyrion agreed to hand over your lord husband's bones to me as well. I have arranged for them to be taken to Robb at Riverrun."

She pulled him into an embrace quicker than lightening could be shot from the sky. "Nephew, I cannot find the means to thank you." She would have like to keep expressing her gratitude in words, but she felt her voice break and tears fall from her eyes. She was tired, so tired. But a great weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a genuine smile graced her lips.

* * *

A/N: Despite my personal feelings about Catelyn, I feel that despite her flaws she is deserving of some sort of happiness. But after Ned goes south, she never seems to find that moment of happiness or peace. So just for now, I feel like I can reward her with that in the form of Ice.

And so, we're almost there. The meeting many of you have been speculating on; Olyvar and Melisandre. Should be fun, right?

Reviews are always welcome. Thanks guys and gals :)


	32. ACOK: Olyvar III

This chapter comes in the night after the meeting between Stannis and Renly, before 'ACOK: Catelyn III'. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

Darkness had crept over the field, the grounds illuminated by the torches set up throughout the camp. Olyvar stood alone atop of a small hill, silently observing the movement throughout his men. His best commanders were rallying their forces for battle, attempting to raise the courage of their Valemen. _Fat chance at doing so._ Olyvar thought. _They know we're outnumbered. _

It was five-and-twenty thousand against fifty thousand, possibly even more than that. Half of Renly's projected army was preparing for them, with the reserves likely rallying to meet them. Olyvar couldn't find fault in his men for being afraid against such odds. But they would have to stand fast, at least for tomorrow. After that, he could only hope that they retreated north fast enough to be out of Renly's reach, yet not far enough away for Renly to abandon the chase.

"Lord Arryn." Olyvar turned to the sight of a man dressed in Baratheon garb approaching him. "King Stannis wishes to speak with you." Olyvar nodded and followed the man to the base of the walls that surrounded the great Baratheon Keep. Olyvar had never visited Storm's End before, but had been fascinated learning about it from his mentor. It was quite impressive, though he felt the Eyrie still provided better natural defenses.

As he entered the tent, he saw Stannis sitting at his desk, scribbling frantically on a piece of parchment. _What's so important that you aren't rallying your men? _But Olyvar's attention was soon drawn to the mysterious red woman he had seen earlier in the day, who was looking intensely into the flames of a fire that was lit to warm the tent. Autumn had come, and the days in the south had become as brisk as the mornings in the north had been.

"Sit." Stannis commanded, prompting Olyvar to take the seat on the other side of the desk.

"Well, you're quite cheery for a man who is about to fight against long odds." Olyvar's jests, as usual, did not break the cold exterior of Stannis Baratheon. Olyvar mostly made them to keep himself sane, as he knew how difficult it was to get past Stannis' personality. "Two to one. Would have been ten to one if I hadn't gotten here."

"Your observations are noted." Stannis said through gritted teeth as he continued working. Olyvar frowned and continued to observe the tent. The red woman had not moved from her spot, still looking into the flames, as if something was going to reveal itself. As his head continued turning, he spotted a large flag hanging behind Stannis, recognizing it as the one the red woman had held during the meeting with Renly. It possessed the Baratheon stag, but surrounding it was red fire.

` "That sigil, it's quite different from the one I saw at Dragonstone." When Stannis looked up, Olyvar pointed behind him to the flaming stag. "When did you decide to douse the stag in fire?"

"King Stannis has been chosen by the Lord of Light, R'hllor." Olvyar's head turned as the red woman looked from her flames and into his eyes. "He recognizes the true power of the one true god of the world."

"R'hl…What now?" The name sounded foreign to him, difficult for his tongue to speak. "Lord of Light? What is this?" He looked over to Stannis. "Who is this woman?"

"One would think that I have taught you better about using your courtesies." Stannis stood up and approached the mysterious woman. "Olyvar, this is Lady Melisandre. Priestess of R'hllor."

"You must forgive me, I've never heard of him." Olyvar rose from his chair and remembered back to Renly saying something about Stannis having a new god. _This must be what Renly was talking about at the parlay. _"Lord Olyvar Arryn, my lady." He gave a gracious bow as to not disrespect Stannis' advisor.

"The young lord Arryn. King Stannis has told me much about you. Your loyalty, at least to your king, is quite remarkable." The woman's voice had an air of mystery to it, something which made Olyvar uncomfortable. He prided himself in knowing people, or at the very least attempting to. She, however, was one of the rare ones he could not read. _She's Littlefinger in a much more attractive form. _"Your dedication to these false gods, however, is slightly troubling."

"Forgive me, Lady Melisandre. But I feel my faith has little to do with my loyalty." He looked at Stannis as he spoke. "I hope that is recognized."

"It certainly is. But these false idols that you and much of Westeros hold are just that, false. Embracing the Lord of Light will only help illuminate the way for you in this war."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm not exactly interested in turning away from my faith." He responded curtly to the priestess. Truth be told, Olyvar had little love for the Seven. He always identified more with the old gods of the North than the predominant faith of the Seven Kingdoms. But he knew religion was more of a political tool than it was to express faith, and so chose to keep to the Seven publicly. "What would my men think of me?"

"Their opinions should not matter. They are only heretics following a false religion. When your king wins the Iron Throne, all will bask in the light of R'hllor."

"Fascinating. I suppose we will see." He said with finality before turning to Stannis. "So, have you a plan for dealing with Renly?"

"Renly has been given until the dawn to approach me. Should he not, he will be destroyed with haste." Stannis said simply and firmly.

"Yes, but how? Have you a strategy, or possibly an assassin in their camp?" Olyvar raised his brow in inquiry. He realized that killing Renly Baratheon was a possibility to winning the coming battle before it even began, but he didn't expect Stannis to go to the lengths of hiring an assassin to do the trick.

"Gold will not do in obtaining a proper assassin." It was Melisandre that answered him, drawing an annoyed look from his face. _I don't remember questioning you. _But he kept silent as she approached the flame again, her eyes focused as she looked into the fire. "Lord Renly's sins will be punished by a power higher than that of man."

He gave a look towards Stannis, who only returned it with his own icy gaze. Olyvar quickly changed the subject. "That sword you have, the one that shone so bright. How did you make it do that?"

"He did nothing. Lightbringer is the sword of Azor Ahai, the hero who saved the world from the Long Night." Melisandre answered for Stannis once more. Olyvar had heard the story before, the night where the Others had been fought back by the first men and the children of the forest. "King Stannis is the legendary hero reborn, and as such the sword has chosen him."

Olyvar looked at Stannis incredulously. "You realize how mad this sounds, don't you?" He never took his lord to be one for mysticism, yet now he had a foreign witch as council. Was he that desperate to win this war?

"If you are done debating theology, we have strategy to discuss." _You never answered me, Stannis. _"As I said, Renly will be dealt with. His pride will likely not allow him to bend his knees, and such he shall pay the price for his treasons. You should have your lords focus on sieging Storm's End."

"Wish you would have told me earlier. I just called on them to prepare the men for battle." Olyvar procured a map, placing it before Stannis. "I do have a plan, if you were curious. We can lead Renly up the Kingsroad. From there-"

"I have given no such order." Stannis said firmly, causing Olyvar to give him an annoyed look. "You will prepare your men to siege Storm's End. Do not worry about the battle, for there will be none."

"There won't be one? Tell that to Renly and his fifty thousand. Or will your new god provide an extra thirty thousand to our cause?" Olyvar asked with a mix of sarcasm and mocking. "Whatever your plan is, I hope it works. But it can't hurt to have our men ready for battle instead of siege. It was you who taught me to prepare for all possibilities." He rolled up the map and went for the opening to the tent. "Should you need me, I will be amongst my men."

Olyvar stormed out of the tent in search of Bronze Yohn, pondering the exchange that had just occurred. _That woman is in his ear. _Olyvar was worried by how much her words were influencing Stannis, making him believe he was the reincarnation of a legendary hero. It was madness to him, something he felt was below Stannis to resort to.

He was also troubled by his king's lack of faith in disclosing his plan to deal with Renly. Stannis had said that Renly would be dealt with, but how? Olyvar would have liked to attack the camp in the dark, but knowing that his aunt was Renly's guest, he dared not risk injure her accidentally. He didn't care if Renly or the Reach thought poor of him for a sneak attack, it was war after all. But wounding his aunt was a possibility Olyvar did not want to risk happening.

As he assessed his options, he knew that he would have to prepare for actual battle. Stannis was too stubborn to retreat, and Renly too proud to kneel. Unless his king's supposed plan succeeded, Olyvar felt that the fields surrounding the great Baratheon keep would be painted as red as the dawn, and feared that most of the paint would come from the bodies of his men.

* * *

A/N: Not the most confrontational first meeting, but I hope you guys can feel the tension. I feel that Olyvar would be ignorant of the true power that Melisandre holds over Stannis (he's still not aware about the burning of the Seven at Dragonstone) at the moment. But he, like Davos, will eventually learn.

Hope you guys and gals enjoyed the chapter, reviews are always welcome. Have a good day!


	33. ACOK: Colemon II and Davos I

Sorry I haven't uploaded in a while guys. Real life took over and I got a tad bit busy (funny story, I got maced on Saturday), but I should be able to get back to writing regularly. This update is two chapters in one. I decided to have a slight insight on the happenings of Colemon as well as a slight rewrite of 'ACOK: Davos II', which occurs between the time of the failed parlay for Storm's End and Davos smuggling Melisandre down underneath the keep. Hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

Colemon II

"No, no. This will not do." Colemon worked late into the night, attempting to perfect the serum that he had been administering onto young Robert. Although there were signs of improvement in the boy's health, the serum was not fully suppressing the shaking sickness that the boy possessed. Colemon drove himself to find a total cure, a serum that would allow the boy to live a normal life. To grow strong, as his brother had.

But with every new formula he came up with, Colemon found himself facing the same obstacle. He could not, in good conscience, test them on the boy. The original serum was one that already had widespread use throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and was a formula he had found long ago in the archives of the Citadel. Including other ingredients into the formula had unknown effects. Without prior experimentation, one of the test formulas could potentially be harmful to young Robert. _No. _He thought to himself every time he came close to giving in and testing them on the boy. _I have failed Lord Jon, I cannot fail the Arryns again._

"Maester Colemon." He looked up to see Nestor Royce in the doorway. The man was massive in comparison to most men, with a grey beard and a bald head. "You have been working far too much."

"Ahh, Lord Royce. Good evening."

"Morning." Nestor corrected him. "The hour is closer to dawn than it is to dusk." Colemon looked out the window of his chamber to see that Lord Royce was correct; the sun was rising above the horizon. Soon, it would take its place above the mountains of the Vale, and illuminate the land.

"So it seems." _How did I let the time get away? _He had been working by candlelight since the sun had set, yet he didn't feel as if much time had passed. But at the sight of the sun, feelings of fatigue rushed upon him with the suddenness of a wind gust. He chuckled nervously. "Seems I forgot myself."

"You tend to do that these days, Colemon." Nestor came to the chair opposite of him, sitting in it and sharing in the humor. "Worry not, the young lord still sleeps. He likely won't be up for some time. Perhaps you can get some rest before he awakes."

"Let us hope." Since his last seizure, young Robert slept for greater periods of time. His recovery had been stunted by the event, just as Colemon and Royce feared. Lysa's appearance had under-minded all of the work they had done on strengthening the boy, mind and boy, and now they would have to do the work once more. "The boy has been troubled since seeing his mother last."

"Aye. Perhaps we should send her to Riverrun." Nestor stroked his beard. "She wouldn't be able to interfere with our work here. Plus, I hear her lord father, Hoster Tully, is dying. We have the perfect pretext to send her away."

"Yes, but if she is taken captive, then what would we do?" Colemon knew that they could not risk sending Lysa across the Ruby Ford with Tywin Lannister still stationed in the southern portion of the Riverlands, and knew the Freys would want a toll, even if she was the aunt of their king, Robb Stark. "We cannot have the mother of our lords taken hostage, can we?"

"I suppose." Royce said bitterly. "Still, I don't like having that woman around. She's difficult in dealing with. We've caught her wandering the Eyrie too many times already. Even on house arrest, she finds ways to escape."

"She is tricky to deal with, I agree. But we-" Before Colemon could finish, a raven came through his window, landing on the table before them.

"Seven hells!" Lord Nestor cried out, nearly falling from his chair. Colemon was equally surprised that one would fly through into his personal chambers. As he examined the raven, he saw a message attached to its leg. He reached for it, removing and uncoiling it as Lord Royce rose once more. "What is it, then?"

Colemon silently read over it one time. _Gods, can it be? _He read it once more to be sure before reading it aloud for Royce to hear.

_My friends of the Vale, time is short, and I do not risk naming myself in fear of this message being intercepted. You need not write back, for it is far too dangerous. But know that the young Lord Arryn has one ally remaining in the capital. Do inform him is precious cousin shall be kept safe, so long as I can name my prize for delivering her to him. _

"Littlefinger?" Royce question immediately after Colemon had read it.

"It's possible. He's smart enough to get someone else to write it for him, this isn't his hand." Colemon threw the letter down on the table and leaned in his chair. Baelish was the sort of man they could not trust. Yet, if it was him, he would play a very useful ally. "But the possibility remains that it is another."

"Who else would write their intention to aid us? Baelish is a Valeman!" Lord Nestor proclaimed. _Indeed. _Colemon thought to himself as he saw the dawn break over the mountains. _That is what worries me._

* * *

Davos II

"And where, might I ask, is Lord Olyvar?" Davos questioned the King as he, Stannis and Melisandre made their way back to the king's tent. The young Lord of the Vale had not been present during the parlay with Alester Florent, which Davos found to be particularly troubling.

"Olyvar decided to rest in my tent. He had been up all night preparing for Renly's forces, and was so tired that he did not want to participate in the negotiations." But Davos could detect that something was wrong. Stannis never grinded his teeth nor scowled at the mention of his ward and only ally in the war. Besides that, Olyvar Arryn was not the type to excuse himself from anything of importance. _That boy is headstrong. What has happened?_

As they made their way into the tent, Davos spotted the sole occupant; as the king had said, Olyvar Arryn was present, sitting in one of the many chairs scattered throughout the area. He had been focusing on a map of the Stormlands and Reach, but as he looked up Davos could see dark circles had formed around the boy's eyes, very similar to those of Stannis.

"Lord Davos." The boy attempted to force a cheery disposition. "I trust your mission to spread word throughout the realm was successful."

"All the more so thanks to you, my Lord Arryn." Davos gave an appreciative bow. "You had already spread word to the Riverlands and the Vale, so I need not have done much in those regions."

"You are too kind. Unfortunately I was not able to convince my cousin to join you." Davos heard the tone in Olyvar's voice sour, but felt no true bitterness come from the boy. "Fear not, I do believe that Robb will see reason once we march on King's Landing. Something that should be done with haste." He added, looking from Davos to Stannis.

"As I've told you before, I cannot leave Storm's End in possession of one of Renly's bannermen." Stannis said through gritted teeth.

"But Your Grace," Davos interjected, attempting to halt a coming argument. "You now have nearly forty thousand at your back. Should we march now, King's Landing will be defenseless. Even if Lord Tywin marches on us, we still outnumber him."

"Onion Knight, do you know how embarrassing it is to have the keep of your house held by an enemy?" Stannis said with a cold voice. "It's an unbearable slight, and I shall see that the fortress of the Stag is not held by a traitor."

"You would do well to get on with it then." Olyvar said, and this time Davos could sense a bitter voice. "Who knows when the Tyrells will get gather themselves and come for vengeance for what you did to Renly."

"It's you I worry about." Stannis spat back. "Weren't you the one who suggested to attack Renly's camp in the dead of night? So why do you trouble me about how I dealt with my own brother?"

"Indeed, I did suggest an attack under the cover of darkness. But there's a difference between attacking in the dead of night with your own men and hiring an assassin to do the trick." Olyvar said grimly. "Much different having to slay the man you want dead than having another kill him."

"Enough of this. You spoke of the Tyrells. I have a mission for you." Stannis took a seat across from his ward, Melisandre to his left and Davos to the right. "You will go to Bitterbridge and serve as my diplomat."

"Madness." Olyvar responded sharply. "They'll skewer me upon arrival because of what you did to Renly."

"Because of what they _think _I've done." Stannis corrected him. "They only believe that I paid for Brienne of Tarth to kill Renly."

"That woman loved Renly more than anyone. You saw it just as I did." Olyvar objected fiercely. "We both know it was not her. So, who did you send Stannis?"

"It matters not. As I said, the Tyrells are convinced I was behind their death, yet lack proof. You will convince them of my innocence. Should they refuse to listen to you, then you and your men will hold them off as I take the capital."

_A suicide mission. _"You need not fear, Lord Olyvar." Melisandre spoke. "The flames have shown me that no harm shall come to you. Even while you grasp your false idols, R'hllor cloaks you in his favor."

"A comfort to know, my lady." But Olyvar was not looking at the red witch, but directly into Stannis Baratheon's eyes. Both possessed a cold, deadly stare, and Davos felt as if a battle of wills was being waged within the tent itself. _We are divided. _Davos thought in despair. _He will leave us to join his cousin._

"Will you obey your king, or not?" Stannis challenged through gritted teeth as the two continued to share their heated stares.

Olyvar snorted. "Am I simply a sacrifice on your way to the chair, Stannis? Are the bodies of my men your stepping stones? Is mine?"

"I am trusting you to make sure the Tyrells do not interfere. Your cousin has Tywin preoccupied in the West, which leaves the capital open _unless _the Tyrells intervene." Davos could detect a vote of confidence through the steely exterior of the king. "You are a better diplomat that most of the fools I surround myself with, and the Tyrells will not treat with Ser Davos, they will want one of higher birth." Davos understood this was not meant to be a slight, but simply a reality. Mace Tyrell would never treat with a low born, anointed or not. "You are the only option."

Olyvar stared for what felt like a long period of time, the sharpness in his eyes never dulling. Finally, he stood. "I'll do this for you, but you will guarantee me a few things."

"You have no right to demand anything from the rightful king." Melisandre warned.

"Silence, woman!" Davos was taken aback by Stannis' tone. He had never heard an angry word thrown at Melisandre's direction before. "Speak them then."

"You will send men to the Red Keep to find and protect my cousin. Should any harm fall upon Sansa, you will forever regret it." Davos tensed up at the warning. He could see both the boy and his teacher we're close to exploding with anger. "You will also not harm Myrcella nor Tommen Baratheon under any circumstances. Should you find them, you will hold them until I show up and obtain custody."

"A ridiculous demand. The children must die, they are impure." Melisandre's voice slithered back into the conversation, almost as if it was whispering into Stannis' ear.

"Did I not command you to be silent?" The red priestess fell silent to Stannis' command once more.

"Thirdly, the Sept of Baelor will not be touched by this foul woman's hands." Olyvar did not need to point to indicate he was speaking of Melisandre. "After the whispers I heard throughout camp, I trust you understand my reasoning for this."

"Of course. Anything else you wish to add?" Stannis responded with iron.

"None. Do you accept?" Olyvar asked back, with just as much steel in his voice as his mentor. _He's a mixture of Robert and Stannis, this one. _

"I do. Now go." Olyvar did as he was instructed, exiting the tent. Davos lamented at their situation. Even if the Vale supported Stannis, their allegiance was now shaky at best. And should Stannis continue listening to Melisandre, what was stopping Olyvar from declaring for Robb Stark? Loyalty would only go so far, and the boy was still a boy, which meant his patience would run thin eventually. "Ser Davos." The Onion Knight looked over to his king, his concentration broken. "I too have a task for you."

* * *

A/N: Some of you wanted sparks. How's that for some sparks?

Many predicted that Olyvar would be sent to deal with the Tyrells. Many also predicted a schism to form between Stannis and Olyvar, and although that hasn't occurred yet, I made sure that their certainly was tension.

As for Colemon, it seems that he and Nestor Royce are caught in a bit of a position. But if you can't trust a Valeman (if it even is Petyr), who can you trust? ...

As always, tell me what ya think. Appreciate the support guys, here's hoping we hit 100 follows/favs within the next few updates. This story wouldn't be as big as it is without you guys. Much thanks!


	34. ACOK: Tyrion III

This is a smaller update, but since I'm going on hiatus for a bit due to school, I figured I'd leave you with this bit before I went. It's a small rewrite of the original "ACOK: Tyrion VIII", where the Small Council learns of Renly's death. The remainder of the chapter (Tyrion and Cersei's personal conversation) remains intact. Remember, all the other chapters in the original works are still considered canon to this story, so do be sure to read those. That, or watch the show and fill in the blanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

_This is a problem. Damnit Olyvar. _Tyrion silently cursed the boy as he sat in on one of the Small Council meetings, listening to another of Varys' reports. Renly Baratheon was dead, and the Stormlords were now pledged to Stannis. Alongside of the Vale, Stannis now had more than enough to crush them at King's Landing. Yet that was not what was bothering him on this particular night. "The boy moves for Bitterbridge as we speak. My spies say he intends to attack the Reachmen before they can reorganize." The eunuch informed Littlefinger, Cersei and Tyrion, a seemingly solemn expression on his face.

"I doubt it." Tyrion responded. "If the rumors are true about Renly's death, Stannis likely fears retribution against him by the Tyrells. He's likely sending the Arryn boy as a diplomat first. If he should fail, then the Rose and the Falcon will clash while Stannis has free reign to attack us here."

"Aren't you giving too much credit to the boy as a diplomat?" Littlefinger said in his mocking voice, the one that Tyrion so often detested. "I doubt that Mace Tyrell's sons will consider any offer made. Renly was beloved in the Reach."

"Mace Tyrell loves the idea of power. _That's _why he married his daughter to Renly. Not because he thought Renly was going to be a good king." Tyrion scoffed. Renly would have made a worse king than Robert in his mind. "But now that his opportunity to have a grandchild for a prince is gone, he will settle for the next best thing."

"Pray, tell us what that is." Cersei remarked with a snide attitude.

"Have you no brains? Olyvar Arryn is a High Lord of Westeros, a descendant of one of the most pure of the Andal bloodlines, a commander in Stannis Baratheon's army, and recently freed from his betrothal." _By your order, if you recall Cersei. _"And if I remember correctly, Margaery Tyrell is newly widowed…"

"The Tyrells would never join with Stannis." Cersei dismissed Tyrion quickly. "Not even if Olyvar Arryn and Margaery Tyrell were to get married."

"Sister, you and your council continuously think I'm overestimating the boy. But the fact is that you are underestimating him and are putting too much faith in Mace Tyrell being loyal to a corpse." Tyrion was blunt in his assessment. How many times did he see his own niece and many other maids swoon over Olyvar Arryn? The boy was not the prettiest, but he was pretty enough, and his way with words were unmatched when he was calm. "If, or should I say when, the Tyrells accept Olyvar's proposal, the war will indeed be lost, as well as all of our heads."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Cersei spat violently, but Tyrion knew that beneath the demanding exterior, she was panicking.

"Our only option is to offer something of greater worth to Mace Tyrell. And the only thing greater than a High Lord;s hand is a King's."

"Joffrey, married to Margaery Tyrell?" Varys said in shock, although Tyrion knew it was feigned.

"Joffrey is already betrothed to Sansa Stark." Cersei said flatly. "This will never work."

"Your Grace, Margaery Tyrell belongs to one of the wealthiest families in the Seven Kingdoms." Littlefinger came to Tyrion's rescue, taking him by surprise. "She would be a better match to your son. With her as Queen, we would have another fifty-thousand swords behind us. Not to mention she is likely able to bare children at her age."

"Joffrey is only three-and-ten, he is not interested in these sorts of things." Cersei hissed.

"Except he's already had young Sansa publicly stripped naked by Ser Boros numerous times, many of which I've had to stop." Tyrion's patience was running thin now. "Besides, it is better he be interested in these things than lopping off heads and starting wars."

Cersei was fuming, crimson in the face, attempting to find a counter to his words. But Tyrion could tell that she could not. "Very well." She relented. "But if he does not like her-"

"Please. From what I've heard the girl outclasses Sansa Stark in beauty. I'm sure Joffrey will find her just as much to his liking as his old betrothed." Tyrion could tell Cersei had her doubts, but was relieved when she raised no more objections. "Now, sweet sister, you need only go to Bitterbridge-"

"Why must I go?" Cersei responded. "This was your plot, and you are Hand of the King. You should represent the crown." Tyrion eyed her with suspicion. He knew that she wanted him out of the capital, and that this was her chance. But this was his chance to remove her as well, and he was not going to allow all of the work he had done to go to waste.

"Your Grace, Lord Hand. If it pleases you both, I shall go to Bitterbridge and rally the Tyrells to our cause." Tyrion's suspicious eyes now rested on Littlefinger. _What is your game, Baelish? _Ever since Catelyn Stark had informed him of Littlefinger's involvement in his capture, Tyrion had little trust for the Valeman. "I would make a poor hostage if the Tyrells prove inconsolable, but I doubt I would be taken. Unlike Lord Arryn, Loras Tyrell bares no animosity towards me, and neither does his father."

"And you are confident you can out maneuver your former liege?" Tyrion had not forgotten where Littlefinger was from. He was a Valeman, formerly in service of Jon Arryn. "The boy is quite skilled with the tongue."

"Experience and skill are two different things." Baelish said with a mocking grin. "Should I beat the boy there, I should have no problem in convincing the Tyrells that he is the enemy. We do offer the biggest prize, after all. _Royalty_."

"Very well. I can offer you a hundred Gold Cloaks and some gold to meet the Tyrells with. Gods know you will need both." Tyrion did not like it, but he was in a corner. He could not leave now, not with Stannis seemingly coming up from Storm's End.

"My lord Hand, with such difficult fighting on the way to Bitterbridge, I will need a stronger escort than that. Five hundred would do."

"I'll give you three hundred and forty knights to your service. That should be enough to protect you on your way." Tyrion said plainly, which Baelish nodded his head in agreement. "Take one of the Redwynes along with you. I hear Mace's mother is a Redwyne, perhaps their kinship will be useful."

"Ridiculous." Cersei spat once more. "The Redwynes rose for Renly."

"Aye, that they did. But is as your brother says, Your Grace. Renly Baratheon is simply a corpse in the ground." Littlefinger reminded her. "Their loyalties will lie with whoever is against Stannis Baratheon, which so happens to be us."

"Take whichever you prefer then, but you leave the other one as hostage." Tyrion commanded. "You depart at dawn. Do be sure to beat the Arryn boy there. You will be handsomely rewarded should you make this work, Baelish."

"Oh I know, my lord." Littlefinger met Tyrion with a smile. "And I am thankful that I will have much time to think about my potential reward as I travel."

* * *

A/N: And the race is on for the Rose.

Hope you guys enjoyed. As always, please leave a review. They are always helpful. Have a good day/night.


	35. ACOK: Olyvar IV

Good news, I found free time! I figured that since I've kept you guys waiting for so long that you deserve a longer chapter. This naturally takes place before the Battle of the Blackwater, and involves the negotiations with the Tyrells. Hope you guys enjoy, and thanks for being patient!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers.

* * *

"You're sure you want to do this, my lord?" Lord Redfort commented as the party rode north. According to the charts, they were nearly to Bitterbridge, where the Tyrells and the reminance of Renly's loyalists had made camp.

"Lord Redfort, if you can find any other way, I would be welcome to hear it." Olyvar's patience with the Lord of the Redfort was diminishing every day he found himself around the man. From the snide comments about his former betrothal to now questioning the wisdom of his next decision, the man was becoming unbearable.

"Ignore him, my lord." It was now Lord Belmore's turn to speak. Olyvar enjoyed his words much more, the fat man had a talent for humor. "Lord Redfort simply wants to try getting you to marry that daughter of his. Although I don't see why you would, the girl certainly isn't a beauty as he claims."

"You would do well to watch your words, Belmore!" Lord Redfort spat back.

"Enough!" Lord Royce commanded, which Olyvar gave a sly smile at. He had done well in choosing Bronze Yohn as the commander of his army, only answering to Olyvar himself. Many of his lords had seemed peeved with his decision, but all grew to respect it after a week had passed. Bronze Yohn was, after all, the most proven of them, his accomplishments dating back to the War of the Ninepenny Kings. A reason why he commanded such respect. "We must be united before reaching Bitterbridge, else the Tyrells will take advantage!"

"Agreed." Olyvar said. "My lords, go to your men. Tell them to harden themselves for battle. Though this may be a diplomatic mission, we should still prepare for the worst." All of his lords bowed on their horses and gave him leave, save Lord Royce, who rode on his right. "Are you sure you want to go with me? After what Loras did to your son?" Olyvar asked without looking at his most trusted commander. He had a feeling he knew Lord Royce's answer before the words escaped the man's lips.

"Robar made his choice in abandoning his family and his rightful lord. His death, unfortunate as it is, is attributed to his own choices. I hold no ill will towards the Tyrells." Despite his words, Olyvar suspected that Yohn Royce held some sort of venom underneath his skin. Robar, a traitor he might be, was still the son of the Lord of Runestone. That had to count for something.

"Very well." Olyvar opted to not push further on the subject. "You need to speak with me about the Tyrells again. I know of Loras, but Garlan and Margaery are other subjects."

"Ser Garlan is the second son of Lord Mace. If I remember correctly, the boy is said to be built much broader than his younger brother. They also say he's an excellent swordsman, better than Loras. Wiser as well."

"At least that bodes well for us. Hopefully we are negotiating with him." Olyvar said sarcastically. He didn't like the odds that were presented to him, especially with the stories of Stannis paying off one of Renly's Rainbow Guard, Brienne of Tarth, to assassinate her king swirling around the camp. But if Garlan was the one he spoke to, perhaps there was a chance he could convince him that Stannis had no involvement. "And Renly's former queen?"

"I have only heard the tales of Margaery Tyrell's beauty, but considering they have made their way into the Vale, then it's likely they are closer to truth than fiction." Olyvar considered this for a moment. He, too, had heard from Renly how beautiful Margaery was, but had never seen the girl, neither in portrait nor in person. "It is said she looks like her brother, Loras."

"Hopefully she doesn't have his personality." Lord Royce chuckled at Olyvar's comment. "Are the majority of our men prepared?"

"We've taken a position in the east that is relatively safe. Archers on a hill, infantry surrounding them, the cavalry prepared to charge out from both angles. If the Tyrells do attack, we will be able to surround them."

"Good." Olyvar was satisfied with the preparations that his commanders had made. Even if they were outnumbered, he knew the battle could still be won if they used the right tactics. Still, he missed the other ten thousand he had left in the Vale. "Now, go throughout the ranks and ask who wants to volunteer their aid in protecting me."

"Of course, Lord Arryn." It did not take long for Yohn Royce to find volunteers, and soon enough the company made their way west to Bitterbridge, where Renly's remaining forces were. It was strange to Olyvar, still calling them Renly's men, yet that was exactly what they were. Men loyal to a corpse. If all went well, hopefully he could persuade them to his side. _Just don't let Loras be there._ He knew failure awaited if Loras Tyrell headed the negotiations.

As they made their way to Bitterbridge, Olyvar had given specific instructions on how to approach; two of his men held flags in the air. One was his sigil, to identify him as the Lord of the Eyrie. The other white so as to inform the Tyrells of his intentions for a peaceful negotiation. And as they approached, there was no hostile movement from the camp, only an alert had been shouted by one of the Tyrell men.

"YOU!" _Seven hells, why do the gods curse me?_ Olyvar could recognize the voice from his time back in King's Landing, and sure enough, there rode Loras Tyrell out to meet him. But Olyvar knew something was wrong. Loras was riding out far too fast, and the men behind him were calling out his name. _He wouldn't. _But Olyvar immediately knew his own thoughts to be a denial. Loras Tyrell was coming for his head, daring to challenge a hundred men for the chance to clip a falcon's wings, and destroy any chance at a peaceful negotiation.

"Do not attack him! I will handle it!" Olyvar called out in panic.

"But, my lord-" There was no time to explain to Lord Belmore, as Olyvar donned his falcon helm and drew his sword and shield, riding out to meet Loras. Any of his men were likely to kill the young Tyrell for daring to kill him. But if the negotiations were to succeed, he would need Loras alive. He only hoped that the men of the Reach would ride out and recover their lord before the clash drew blood.

As he rode out, an excitement took over. Olyvar had not fought in quite some time, not since the sparring sessions in the north had he swung his sword seriously at an opponent, and even then, it was blunt. But the refreshing feeling to have steel clash with steel came over him once more as his sword, Crescent, struck Loras' sword as the two rode past one another.

"Care to dismount and settle this on foot, Loras?" Olyvar called out, attempting to bait Loras into doing as he wanted. He might have been near Loras' equal with sword and shield, but riding was not Olyvar's specialty. For his plan to succeed, he needed to keep Loras distracted without hurting him, as well as avoid being split open by the Flower Knight's sword.

"Gladly!" _Fool, you took the bait. _ Olyvar dismounted simultaneously with Loras, who charged wildly at him once more. He was fast, but Olyvar was his equal physically, being able to see where the strikes from Loras' longsword would come from. He would have to block one with his shield, Silvermoon, every now and again, but for the most part he simply continued to dodge.

"LORAS!" A large shout came from somewhere behind them, but Loras had not paid it any attention, and continued hacking at Olyvar Arryn. But soon enough, three men were on Olyvar's opponent, restraining him to the ground as he shouted curses. Eventually, another man came into sight. "Take him back to the camp!"

Olyvar removed his helm and watched as Loras Tyrell was dragged back to his camp by three men, another man guiding his horse behind him. Then, Olyvar took in the man that stood before him, the man he could only assume was Garlan Tyrell. Yohn Royce was right, Garlan Tyrell was a large man, seemingly built of muscle. His hair was cut like Loras', but he did possess a beard. Feeling he was safe, Olyvar sheathed his sword. "Lord Garlan. I thank you for saving me from your brother."

"You know well that my brother is not in the right state of mind." Garlan responded back, with mock courtesy. "If you wanted to, you could have struck him down."

"Perhaps. But that would impede any hope at having a diplomatic conversation with you about the current state of affairs."

"Would it?" Olyvar could see the interested expression on Ser Garlan's face. "Pray, tell me how you expect to have a diplomatic conversation when your King had mine murdered?"

"King Stannis had nothing to do with Lord Renly's death." Lying was not his favorite thing to do, but in war it did not matter what he liked to do. If it assured Stannis' victory, Olyvar would lie to the Tyrells through his teeth. "You only need to blame the treachery of Renly's own guard."

"Unlikely. Even I could see that Brienne of Tarth is innocent of any crimes, even if my brother sees guilt everywhere. Speaking of which, I apologize for the death of Lord Royce's son. Loras did the deed before I could interfere."

"I thank you for you kindness. But we cannot focus on the dead, not while we are still alive at least. I come here to offer you an alliance. Join King Stannis, and he shall forgive the treason of supporting his brother Renly's claim as the King on the Iron Throne."

"Interesting choice of words from your king. Tell me, did he threaten to destroy us as well should we refuse?" Garlan said mockingly. "Or are you omitting that from your offer, Lord Arryn?"

"I do not wish to fight, Ser Garlan. I only come to offer what I can."

"Oh? And tell me, what can you offer? Other than Stannis' idle threats?" Olyvar took a deep breath. The time had finally come to do what he had known he must do. _For the good of the realm, Olyvar. For Stannis._ Exhaling, he looked the second son of Mace Tyrell in the eyes.

"I offer myself as a match to Margaery Tyrell, as well as a spot on the Small Council to whomever your father feels worthy of it." The proposal had done what it was intended to do. Garlan was taken aback, seemingly unable to comprehend what was being offered. Knowing he had the advantage, Olyvar pressed forward. "I would have liked to speak to your lord father on the matter, but I felt it better to come to you directly. There is little time to waste on this issue."

"Yes, yes….of course…." Garlan the Galliant continued considering the offer, stroking his beard as he did so. Finally, it seemed that he had come to a decision. "Come, we will allow our queen to decide this matter?"

"Your Queen? Lady Margaery?" This Olyvar had not expected of Garlan. He was prepared to be presented to Margaery should all go well, but he did not expect to have to convince her that the marriage was a good fit.

"My sister will decide whether you are a worthy match. Should she accept, we will support you and your king." Garlan said, with almost a grin on his face. _Does he know she will refuse? Or is he testing me? _Olyvar now recognized that Garlan was in control of the negotiations. Thinking quickly, he came up with a solution.

"Agreed. But only on the condition that before I am brought into your camp, I am given something to eat and drink. I am parched, it has been a long journey." Garlan nodded and gave a look of understanding after Olyvar spoke. Both men know that with this, the guest right would be secured, and no harm would come to the other, nor to their army.

After a piece of bread and a glass of water had been brought to him, Olyvar entered the camp, Yohn Royce and Lord Belmore at his side. Both men had warned him of the dangers, but Olyvar knew that a level of trust needed to be built up between their forces and those of the Tyrells. But even Olyvar could not deny that the eyes of the Reachmen that watched made him uncomfortable, even with the guest right secured. They were three, in the middle of fifty thousand, and even with orders to attack the camp should they not return by daybreak, Olyvar felt that it would not matter much.

Garlan led them into the tent, which was finely decorated. Olyvar thought it appropriate, considering how Renly did love the finer things that life offered. But his attention to the tent was destroyed when his eyes fell upon a woman who was sitting in the corner. She possessed soft, browl curls with matching eyes, garbed in green with a golden trim on her dress. It took no second guessing to identify her. "Lady Margaery, I am Olyvar Arryn. A pleasure." He bowed low as he introduced himself.

"Lord Arryn. I hear you've come to offer your hand to me." Margaery Tyrell came from her seat, taking his hands into hers. He felt himself blush as she looked into her doe eyes, quite nervous for reasons other than attempting to secure an alliance for Stannis. The tales were as true as Lord Royce had said, she was perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes upon. Yet even with her right in front of him, his thoughts somehow drifted back to Myrcella, and their final meeting outside of the walls of King's Landing.

"I do, my lady." He said, attempting to mask any apprehensiveness he might have had. He forced himself to drive the memory of Myrcella from his mind. _For Stannis. _He repeated in his head over and over. "I hope that you will accept my proposal."

She gave him a smile, soft and sweet. She truly was breathtaking. But before she could speak her mind, a man barged into the tent. "My lords. Lord Petyr Baelish comes from the capital. He requests an immediate audience."

_Damnit. _Olyvar attempted to hide his scowl, but his displeasure was unable to be hidden. Baelish was the final man who he wanted to be sent. "Send him in then." Ser Garlan's command was not one he wanted to hear. He steeled himself as he watched his supposed bannerman enter the tent.

"Well, this is a surprise." Baelish said with the same mocking voice Olyvar remembered. "I would have expected to beat you here, Lord Arryn. I figured you would be slowed by the large army you have stationed on an eastern hill."

"I would have expect you to join me back in the Vale after I declared for Stannis, Lord Baelish." The grey-green eyes of Littlefinger looked into Olyvar's brown as a mocking smile did not fade from his face. "Yet I find that you have stayed by the side of Joffrey. Have you thrown your lot in with him?"

"My lord, I intend to choose the right side of this war. And I do not believe that yours is the right side. Not after the tales I've heard of how _your _king commits fratricide without worry, and the fact that he lays with a foreign witch instead of with his wife." Olyvar scowled. It seemed the rumor of Stannis' involvement in Renly's death had also reached the capital, as well as word of Melisandre. He knew Stannis' affiliation with her would be the ruin of him.

"One shouldn't speak of rumors when there is already fact established against _your _King. Beheading my uncle on the steps of the Sept of Baelor." It was Littlefinger's turn to shift slightly uncomfortably. Olyvar's advantage was that he could deny Stannis' involvement, yet Littlefinger could not deny Joffrey's acts. "And after he promised to spare his life. Quite dishonorable."

"Perhaps. But your uncle was a confessed traitor, after all. His fate was expected."

"Lord Baelish, your treachery will not be forgiven by the Vale." Olyvar felt the hand of Bronze Yohn rest on his shoulder. "But I am curious as to why I am here? Perhaps you are seeking the same prize as we are?"

"You are perceptive, Lord Royce. Indeed, I have come to Bitterbridge to offer the Tyrells an exchange; their men, for a large amount of gold, a spot on the Small Council, and the hand of King Joffrey to Lady Margaery Tyrell." Baelish motioned to Renly's queen before turning his attention back to Olyvar. "It seems Sansa Stark is no longer…suitable, to be Queen."

"You'd do well to watch your words, Baelish." Olyvar would have struck down Littlefinger if he could. The alliance offer from the Lannisters was detrimental to his plans. If the Tyrells accepted, the numbers would go back to the Lannisters, and then a fight would be fought here. He could not allow that to happen.

"We accept." A voice cried out from behind Littlefinger. Olyvar had not noticed Loras Tyrell sneak his way into the tent after Baelish's arrival. "Margaery would be delighted to marry Joffrey."

"Loras." Garlan said sternly. But before he could continue, his younger brother shouted once again.

"I refuse to accept any alliance this scum has brought to us!" Loras spat in Olyvar's direction. "Stannis killed Renly! How can we sell our sister off to a man who follows the man who killed our king?!"

"It seems your content to sell your sister off regardless. First to Renly, then to Joffrey. At least Margaery was given the choice to be my wife." Olyvar knew this was going poorly, and needed to recover quickly. He looked to Margaery. "I assure you, you will not enjoy you match with Joffrey Baratheon."

"Perhaps not." Baelish chimed in before the Lady Tyrell could speak. "But she, as well as her brothers, will take great pleasure in avenging her late husband's death, caused by the workings of your King Stannis." Olyvar's scowl grew became more dreadful as Baelish's smile grew wider. The Young Falcon could see the looks on the faces of the Tyrell men, all fiercely royal to Renly. But the face that made him worry most was that or Garlan Tyrell, who look inspired by Renly's memory as well.

"Forgive me, Lord Arryn." Garlan said with an courteous and noble voice. "But as good as your offer may be, we will accept this broker with Lord Baelish." _He's won._ The desire for revenge by the men in the Tyrell camp seemed to outweigh their reason. Olyvar bowed his head for a moment before rising, looking into Margaery Tyrell's eyes.

"Forgive me, my lady. I am sure you would have made an excellent wife." He bowed once more before turning heel and leaving the tent, but not before stopping to look at Loras Tyrell. He leaned forward and whispered in the Flower Knight's ear. "I will find you on the field then, and I will make good on the promise I made to Renly to bury you in the ground." With that, Olyvar stormed out of the tent, his bannermen alongside of him.

* * *

A/N: One can only imagine what Margaery's decision would be if Baelish had one been slightly late. Alas, we will never know. But now Olyvar's first major battle is about to begin, and it's one that will shape how the rest of the war will play out. As always reviews and comments are welcome. Again, I cannot thank everyone enough for the support of the series. Breaking into the 100/100 club is a massive achievement for me, and I'm so thankful that so many enjoy the work. I can only hope to continue entertaining you guys with this.


	36. ACOK: Sansa II

I realize its a shorter update, but I really didn't feel like there was any other way to up the word count without watering down the main points of this chapter. So, figured I would get right into it. This isn't exactly a return for me to regular uploading, but I needed to vent some stress and wrote this little chapter quick. On another side note, you guys are amazing. Thank you for the outpouring of support. I am eternally grateful.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

Sansa Stark sat in her room, looking out of her window and up to the moon that shone so brightly over Blackwater Bay. It had been a number of days since the riots had occurred, yet many of the city's residence were still unruly. The Gold Cloaks had been highly active in suppressing the riots by orders of Lord Tyrion. They had been a brutal thing, taking the life of one of the queen's cousins, as well as Preston Greenfield, one of Joffrey's Kingsguard. Sansa had felt especially sorry for Lollys Stokeworth, who had her dignity taken by half a hundred men. Men who would have taken Sansa's dignity and rape her, had it not been for the Hound saving her.

But the memories of the riot were distant to Sansa right now. As she looked down upon the rocky waves of the bay, she saw the faded shadow of a ship that had once sailed out of the harbor. It brandish a number of flags which portrayed a silver moon on a dark blue backdrop. _Olyvar, I'm so sorry. _Even after he had given his forgiveness when they had met outside of the walls of King's Landing, Sansa could not help but to continue feeling guilt. It was her fault that her father died, it was her fault that this war ever began. All for her golden prince and the glowing aura he had possessed before he saw fit to kill her father.

_Arya was right. I'm so stupid. _The memories of her family continued to haunt her throughout her days held captive in the Red Keep. Her father's head, proudly displayed by Joffrey until Lord Tyrion had come to court. Arya, who had escaped the clutches of the Lannisters to an unknown fate. Sansa hoped that her sister was still alive. She wanted so badly to apologize for everything.

Her thoughts eventually focused on her brothers. Robb, who was fighting a war to avenge their father and rescue her. Bran, who was acting lord of Winterfell. She had been so happy upon learning that he had woken up, yet so distraught when she had heard that he would be unable to walk again, to be a great knight like he had dreamed of doing. And Rickon, little Rickon. How was he dealing with the war? Would he even remember their father?

A tear fell down her face, but Sansa quickly wiped it away. Even in her moments of privacy, she continued to hold back her sadness out of fear of Joffrey's punishments, despite them being curbed recently by Lord Tyrion. She hated not being able to cry, to express her pain without being brutalized. Without having her dignity stripped from her.

A knock at the door broke her concentration. She turned, scared as to who might be on the opposite side. "Come in." She said nervously. The door opened slowly, and to her relief it revealed Lord Tyrion and his bodyguard, the sellsword Bronn.

"Lady Sansa. Forgive the late interruption, but I have something important to discuss with you." The little Lannister seemed to have a troubled look on his face as he spoke, something Sansa was not familiar with seeing. "Bronn, guard the door." The sellsword turned heel and left the room, closing the door behind him as the Hand of the King sat in a chair, using a fire from an already burning candle to light the others.

"Lord Tyrion, I don't believe I understand." Sansa said cautiously as she sat in the chair opposite of him. Olyvar had given his word that Lord Tyrion was trustworthy, but Sansa still held to her suspicions. Everyone in the capital was a liar, why would Tyrion Lannister be an exception.

"No." The dwarf said grimly. "But you will understand the night Stannis attempts to take this city." Sansa looked into the mismatched eyes of the youngest of Lord Tywin's three children. If all she had heard of the Lord of Casterly Rock was true, then Sansa felt it was Tyrion who best resembled his father's intellect. "That will be the night you are free from this prison."

"What?" Sansa could only come up with the word in response, her mouth slightly opened in shock. Was this true? Was she going to be released to Lord Stannis before the battle would begin, perhaps as a peace offering?

"Stannis Baratheon is coming for this city, and the throne that Joffrey sits on every day." Sansa could hear the venom that Tyrion spoke with as he addressed his nephew. "If he succeeds, it will be the end of us all. Even if you are Olyvar Arryn's cousin, Stannis' men will not care. And that is something I cannot allow to have happen."

"What do you plan to do with me?" Sansa asked. Fear was driving her now. She had heard so many horrible things about Stannis Baratheon, namely the rumor that he burned his enemies in sacrifice to his new, eastern god. But it had to be nonsense. Olyvar would not follow such a man. Would he?

"Nothing will be done to harm you, my lady. I have arranged for you to be smuggled out of the city during the battle. Lord Varys will be assisting me in getting you to safety and escorting you out of the Keep."

"Where will I be going?" Sansa asked, hope rising in her chest. There was only one place she wanted to be, and she prayed that it would be the place that would escape Tyrion Lannister's mouth. The hope increased as she saw a small smile stretch across the lord Hand's face.

"First, you will be smuggled to Riverrun, to your brother and mother. From there, I imagine you will be sent home to Winterfell." It was all he needed to say. She rose swiftly from her chair before kneeling down, embracing the man whom had protected her from harm. _Olyvar, you were right. Thank the gods, you were right. _She felt joy overcome her, an emotion that had become so foreign to her since her father's death. Sansa felt tears washing down her face once more, but she refused to wiped these from her face.

* * *

A/N: So we have the first big break from the main continuity (besides Olyvar's inclusion, of course) with Tyrion supposedly making plans to get Sansa out of the city and back into her mother's hands. Besides that, not much else happening here besides Sansa being woeful over her past choices. Oh character development. Have a good day everyone.


	37. ACOK: Colemon III

Realizing the last one was a bit short, I decided to write another chapter to continue the story along in the Eyrie, where we haven't gone to in some time. It's a bit shorter, but it helps to progress the story on Colemon's end, as well as gives us a bit more insight as to how our Sweetrobin is doing.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"And this one?"

"Ah, the city of Braavos." Colemon looked on as young Robert pointed out the city on a large map he had procured for the boy's lessons. He was so far behind in his studies, but since the removal of Lysa Arryn from power in the Eyrie, the boy had been making impressive strides. "Tell me, do you remember what this city is famous for?"

The boy put a hand to his head and scratched, thinking on the question. He turned to Colemon with a blank look on his face. "The men without faces?"

"A good guess. A correct one at that matter." Colemon ruffled the boy's hair playfully, much to Robert's delight. "Yes, the Faceless Men are said to make their home in Braavos. Is there anything else that we might find in this city?"

Again, the boy looked back to the map, but after only a moment he turned back with an exhilarated look on his face. "The Iron Bank!" The boy's enthusiasm brought a smile to Colemon's face.

"Very good. The Iron Bank is quite famous for the money it loans out." _And for how they retrieve their debts. _Colemon himself had heard the whispers of how brutal the bankers were when it came to their gold, the tales of brutality rivaling those of what he had heard were occurring during the war.

"Can we go there soon? After Olyvar gets back?" The child looked to his maester hopefully, almost begging to be met with a positive answer. But it was the assumption that his brother would be returning that made Colemon swell with pride. Robert truly did begin to idolize his brother now that he was no longer coddled. The tales of bravery that had come from the Riverlands and into the Eyrie were admirable, so much so that Robert had begun speaking of how he was going to be a great knight when he was older.

"I'm sure your brother would like to go with you when he returns." Colemon was careful to not answer definitively, but his answer was enough to placate the child, who was beaming once more. "But for now, we must continue our lesson. Let's make our way back to Westeros." Colemon eyed the map for a moment before pointing at a location off the western coast of the continent. "Tell me of these islands."

"Those are the Iron Islands, home to the Ironborn. Our enemies." Although it was not technically true, Colemon silently agreed with his lord's assessment. The news of Theon Greyjoy's treachery was met with outrage and calls for summoning their reserves to send into the North in a liberation attempt. Royce and Colemon, however, had agreed to not yet get involved with the North yet, especially after hearing of the news that Robb Stark and Lord Olyvar had a falling out. They would have to wait for their lord's command after Stannis won the throne. _If _Stannis won the throne.

"Indeed, but not the enemies that we are focused on. Tell me, who are these enemies that your brother is fighting?"

"The lions of Lannister." Robert moved his finger so that it pointed into the heart of the Westerlands. "Casterly Rock." He moved his finger once more so that it was positioned on the eastern coast of Westeros. "And King's Landing."

"You are learning very quickly, my boy. But it is the Baratheons of King's Landing that we are fighting, not the Lannisters."

"Aren't they bastards though?" Robert looked back to Colemon with a quizzical look on his face. "I've heard the rumors, you know. That all three aren't King Robert's children. That they're the Kingslayer's seed."

"That is what your brother and King Stannis believe. But until we can defeat them completely, Joffrey, his mother and his grandfather will claim him and his siblings to be true Baratheons. They would never admit such a thing." Another pat on the head, met with another curious look. "It has gotten quite late, my lord. It is time for you to rest."

"But Maester, can't I stay up and keep studying? I want to learn." The boy's sullen face almost made Colemon want to give in. But the boy's physical health was still in a precarious position, and deviating from the norm was not something that should be risked.

"I'm afraid not, my boy. Now go on, your guard is waiting outside to take you back to your quarters." Defeated, the boy made his way across the room, but before he could do so the door opened with Nestor Royce entering.

"Ahh, good evening my young lord. Doing well in your studies I hope?" When the boy nodded at the jubilant question, Lord Royce gave a laugh. "Good, good. That's a lad. Now go on and get to bed." Colemon watched as young Robert left the room, and saw Nestor Royce's face went from happy to serious after the door closed. "We've received a new message from Lord Olyvar."

"Have you read it?" Nestor shook his head as he approached, handing it to Colemon. With a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, the maester began unravelling the note. He recognized the familiar handwriting of his liege, and began reading aloud the contents written on the parchment.

_Maester Colemon and Lord Royce_

_By the time this message comes into your possession, I will be in the heart of the Reach in an attempt to garner favor with the Tyrells. If I am successful, I will be wed to Lady Margaery, Lord Mace's daughter. If I fail with these negotiations, then I will be fighting against the might of the Reach. Should I perish, I will have it known that my brother, Robert, will be my official heir. Both of you shall act as his guardians and regents. Furthermore, I have arrange a deal with Tyrion Lannister…_

"The Imp?!" Nestor Royce hissed in disbelief, interrupting Colemon as he was reading the letter. Colemon continued on.

_With Tyrion Lannister, who I have promised to spare in exchange for him protecting my cousin, Sansa Star. King Stannis is aware of my deal, although I am not sure he will honor this agreement. You are to write to Dragonstone and Storm's End to remind him. Should Tyrion Lannister be executed, or any harm come to Sansa, we will abandon Stannis._

_Olyvar Arryn _

Colemon looked up to his fellow lord, who was just as perplexed as he was. Secret deals with the enemy? A possible marriage or conflict with the Tyrells? Abandoning Stannis? _What is going on? _"Time is of the essence." Colemon stood quickly., disregarding the questions that flowed throughout his head. "We must obey our lord and write to King Stannis."

"It's not that I am concerned about. What does he mean when he says abandon Stannis?" Colemon could not find an answer to this question. Lord Olyvar had held true to Stannis Baratheon's claim for the entirety of the war, even putting aside the love he held for his family in the North to support his king. Now, however, it seemed as if the boy was disillusioned with the thought of Stannis Baratheon as his liege.

"I do not know, but we must act now if we are to make a raven to Dragonstone and Storm's End in time. Stannis' fleet will arrive in the capital any day now." Colemon said hurridly as he and Royce made their way through the keep. But as they were walking, Colemon noticed that Royce, who was matching him stride for stride, had stopped unexpectedly in the middle of the corridor. "Nestor, what is it?"

"The letter." Nestor Royce muttered, a gleam in his eye. "The letter we received from the capital. It was the Imp who sent it, not Baelish!"

"What?" Colemon was befuddled with Nestor Royce's words, and shot a confused look at his partner.

"Think, Colemon! Tyrion Lannister is despised by his own family, yet is held in high regard by Lord Arryn. The two must be in league together to deliver Sansa Stark to us here, in the Eyrie." Colemon's jaw opened slightly at Nestor Royce's revelation. _This changes everything. _Even Colemon could recognize it. If they retrieved Sansa Stark from Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey would have no further hostages. There would be nothing stopping Robb Stark from joining their side and crushing the lions together. The war would be won, and then attention could be shifted north, against Balon Greyjoy and the Ironborn.

"Come, we must send out our letters, as well as an additional one. To Catelyn Stark, in Riverrun." They needed to inform Robb Stark as quickly as possible. It was dangerous to assume, but Colemon felt it all made sense. As he walked to the ravens, he prayed to the gods he was right.

* * *

A/N: Colemon is still one of the most difficult characters for me, considering we know so little about him. It's his concern with Robert Arryn's health in ADWD that prompts me to think that he would make a good guardian to the boy for the AU. Just a friendly reminder that the POV chapters of characters that I have not included and events that occur in those chapters (Theon's capture of Winterfell, Arya's time at Harrenhal) remain canon to this story, and should be read to fill in the gaps. You could also opt to watch the show if you don't want to read the books, although there will be differences in the continuity. Thank you all much, have a great day!


	38. ACOK: Olyvar V

Back in one of those little zones I find myself in. I find writing to be a pretty decent release from the outside world. No wonder I enjoy it so much. As promised, we have the Battle of Bitterbridge between the Reach and the Vale. Will Olyvar be victorious against 3-1 odds, or will he perish? Spoiler: It wouldn't be much of a fanfiction if the title character dies ;) Enjoy guys.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

The morning air was crisp this morning, quite similar to the air he had breathed in during his time in the North and at home in the Eyrie. But unlike either of those two familiar areas, there was not a peaceful quiet that came with the crisp air. Instead, Olyvar could hear the sound of pieces of metal armor clanging against one another, the sound of men shouting orders for others to hear. But most notable was the sound of footsteps. Sixty-thousand footsteps, all getting remarkably louder with each passing moment, the source hidden by the thick fog the morning had brought them.

"My lord. It is time." Bronze Yohn had come alongside of him, informing him that the preparations had been complete. Their army had taken to defending a hill on the eastern side of Bitterbridge, the Tyrell army's only way across the river. They had been fools to not move their men across the bridge to defend this hill, an error Olyvar had resolved to make them pay for.

"Very well. Are the archers able to see the targets?" Olyvar inquired. The only worry that he had about today was the fog. The veil of the morning would hinder their line of sight, thus making it difficult for their archers to hit their targets.

"Do not worry, my lord. The archers of the Vale are well trained to handle the conditions of fog. They know the distance from the bridge and the river, they will be able to hit our enemies." Olyvar felt partially reassured by this assessment as he looked up to the grey blanket that concealed the sky. _Yes, and the wind is with us today. _The gusts at their backs the night previous had proven to persist into the morning, giving their archers an advantage. One that would be needed, considering the odds they faced.

"Lord Royce. I hope you understand that we are not likely to survive this encounter." The words were difficult for him to speak, but it was a reality. As trained as they were, and as advantageous of a position as they had, they were still outnumbered by three Reachmen to everyone one Valeman. The archers would cut down that number, but by how many, and for how long?

"We all understand, Lord Olyvar." He felt the hand of Lord Royce on his shoulder as he continued staring into the void of the fog. "You have chosen a most noble way for us all to enter the Mother's arms. Defending the rightful king of our country." Olyvar twitched slightly at these words, but Lord Royce did not noticed. _The rightful king. _There was a time where Olyvar believed in that notion completely, that Stannis was not only rightful, but destined to be king. But after Storm's End, after seeing Stannis with that witch, he was not so sure. Perhaps he would have been better served joining Robb. Perhaps he should have laid siege to King's Landing instead of aiding Stannis in the Stormlands.

"Thank you, Lord Royce." Olyvar forced his doubts from the front of his mind. It was too late for second guessing his position. The sound of the Reachmen preparing and marching upon them was enough for him to focus his concentration once more. He remembered how the events of the previous night had gone so horribly wrong when Petyr Baelish had arrived. He understood the Tyrell's reasoning, a King was a greater prize than a lord, even if he was to rule the Vale one day. But they were not yet fully aware of the monster Joffrey was, and Olyvar was inclined to prevent the marriage of Margaery and Joffrey, not only for Stannis' stake, but for Margaery's as well. The girl did not deserve the horror that was going to be forced upon her by her brothers and father.

"Prepare the cavalry." Lord Royce left without hesitation, leaving Olyvar with a few infantrymen at the base of the hill. He looked over to see a boy, not much older than he was, looking straight ahead into the fog, a frightened look on his face. "You." The boy looked over to him, shocked that the Lord of the Eyrie was addressing him. "What is your name?"

"J-Jonothor, my lord."

"An uncommon name to hear in the Vale. Tell me, did your father fight for the Vale during Robert's Rebellion?"

"Y-yes, he did mi'lord. Even told me how he saw King Robert kill Rhaegar Targaryen." _That explains the name. _Olyvar figured the boy had been named after Jonothor Darry, one of Aerys' Kingsguard. He did not know why he was interested in knowing the namesake of his soldier. Perhaps he was trying to distract himself from the coming battle.

"Are you afraid, Jonothor?" Olyvar asked as he looked back into the fog.

"Yes, mi'lord, I am." The boy sounded ashamed of himself, as if death was something he should not be fearful of.

"Do not hate yourself for it. I, too, am afraid." Olyvar felt something grow inside of him. Was it nervousness? Was it fear? Or perhaps excitement? Unable to contain himself, he stepped out to face his men, most of the twenty thousand at his back blanketed by the fog. "Men of the Vale! Are you afraid?!" No response met him, prompting him to continue. "I, too, am afraid. Afraid of the fate that we may face here today against these men of the Reach. Afraid that I may never again lay eyes on my home, on my mother or my brother. A fear that is all too real as I stand here before you."

"But know that this fear is natural." Olyvar saw confusion on the faces of those men that were visible to him as he continued speaking. "It is acceptable to not want to die, to fear death. For in death, we forsake everything and everyone that we love. Do not be mistaken, this is a cause worth fighting for and worth dying for. We are fighting to ensure that a great evil does not lay claim to us all. For if Joffrey Baratheon continues sitting upon the Iron Throne, we are all subject to his reign of terror." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I am not asking you to die for me today. I'm not asking any of you to die at all. Instead, I am asking you to fight, knowing that death is a possibility for us all. I'm asking you to fight for your families back home, for the families and people that we will save once this monster is removed. And I assure you, Stannis Baratheon will remove this monster from the Iron Throne, but only if we stop the Tyrells here and now." Another deep breath, another look at his men. When Olyvar saw only stone faces looking back at him, he felt nervous. _Will they leave me? _He cleared his throat once more. "Are you willing to fight with me today?"

A sound erupted from the hill that drowned out the sounds of the Tyrell march. Cheers of "For Lord Arryn!" and "For the Vale!" came from so many voices Olyvar lost count. The cheers that were in his name and the men lifting their swords nearly brought a tear to Olyvar's eye. _Gods, if I am to die today, I am glad it is like this. _His ears focused back in on the footsteps of the Tyrell men. What must they be thinking after hearing the battlecry of the Vale.

"ARCHERS!" Olyvar called, turning back and drawing his sword and lifting it in the air. _A little closer. _The sounds of the archers drawing their bows back filled the air alongside the footsteps, which were increasing in volume and frequency, almost as if they were in a run. A few moments later, the sound had grown loud enough for him. "FIRE!"

The arrows whizzed through the air, the wind carrying them into the fog and out of his sight. He waited in silence for a certain sound to fill the air. Then, he heard it; the cries of men who had been hit. The cries of impending death. He did not like the cries, even if they were not his own men. How many other cries would pierce the air today? Would his own?

"FIRE!" It was now the voice of Lord Hunter signaling the archers, the sounds of arrows travelling through the foggy sky combining with the sounds of footsteps. Olyvar readied himself to charge at the enemy, his shield Silvermoon and sword Crescent prepared for combat. He blocked out the sounds of arrows whizzing in the air, the march of the enemy, the cries of death. It was all unimportant to him. Only the thought of his duty to Stannis came to his mind. _My King, _he thought to himself, _will you remember me for what I did today? _

No sooner than he finished the thought than he saw the first man of the Reach charge out from the fog, followed by numerous others. "CHARGE!" Olyvar began running towards the enemy, followed closely by the men at his back. The first man he approached was heavily armored, yet swung his sword far too slow. Olyvar simply ducked underneath and brought Crescent up to the man's neck, stabbing through before removing it and searching for his next opponent.

He met four more men, all heavily armored. All slow with how they swung their swords. All lying on the ground after they had met Olyvar in the field. After the fourth, Olyvar was engaged by another, but this one was different. He, like the Young Falcon, was wearing only light armor, preferring mobility over protection. As their swords clanged against one another, Olyvar could tell that this was a man who was a true fighter. He did not know how, but he was sure this opponent had truly seen battle once before. Swinging his sword and raising his shield to deflect his opponent's blows, Olyvar saw an opening in the man's guard as he prepared for an overhead slash. Olyvar stepped forward and thrust Crescent into the man's chest. Another man defeated.

Suddenly, a moisture hit Olyvar in the eyes, blinding him. The man had, in a last moment of defiance, spat blood into Olyvar's face. He desperately reached for anything on his person to wipe the blood from his eyes. Every moment he could not see was dangerous. Eventually, he ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt, using it to wipe away the blood. But as he regained his sight and began looking around, he was forced off of his feet by an unknown force, losing possession of his shield. Regaining himself to look around, he finally laid eyes on the source; the Knight of Flowers himself was standing a few feet away, heaving heavily and looking down upon the Young Falcon.

_So be it. _Olyvar rose from the ground, charging for his sword. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loras running in the same direction, sword raised to strike him down. Planting on his foot, Olyvar changed direction and slammed his shield into the young Tyrell, knocking him off of his feet. With Loras removed for the time being, he retrieved his sword and turned back. Already the Knight of Flowers had rose from the ground, charging once more at Olyvar. Their swords met in the air as Olyvar felt sweat pour from his face, the heat inside of his falcon helm becoming an annoyance.

The two remained locked in combat for some time, causing Olyvar to grow tired. _Focus. _He urged himself as he blocked another one of Loras' attacks with his shield. _He must be getting tired as well. _Despite this hope, Olyvar knew that Loras was far from fatigued. In fact, he seemed to be bringing more force with each further blow, causing Olyvar's arms to grow tired from the effort of blocking with his shield and sword. A strike came from above, but Olyvar saw it and blocked with his shield. Then suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and started flying back, eventually hitting the ground.

_Damnit. _The pain was difficult to block out, but the desperation to recover from the ground motivated him. But mere moments after he had landed on the ground due to Loras' kick, Olyvar saw the Tyrell youth standing above him, thrusting his sword downward with both hands, aiming for the opening in his helm. Olyvar rolled his head to the side, barely avoiding the blow, although he felt the sword of the young Tyrell scrape across his falcon helm. The opening was all he needed, as he discarded his sword and reached for a small dagger attached to his hip. Grasping it, he thrust into Loras' leg, causing him to roar in pain and fall back.

Olyvar found his sword once more, rising to finish his prey. The young Tyrell had removed the dagger, but in doing so had removed the shield from his left hand. Olyvar knew that it would not be enough to defend from him, but before he could strike, he heard a shout. "LORAS!" Instinctively, Olyvar turned to see a man charging at him. _Renly?! _It couldn't be, the youngest Baratheon was dead. Yet there charged someone in the dead king's armor, coming straight for Olyvar.

Fatigued, Olyvar knew that this fight was likely the end of him. He had come so close to finishing Loras Tyrell like he had promised, but the opportunity disappeared when the Renly impersonator had come for him. Breathing heavily, Olyvar prepared himself to fight. But from behind him came two of his own men, charging at Renly's supposed ghost. Then a voice came into his ear. "My lord." It was Yohn Royce's son, Andar. "We are surrounded on all sides but north. We must take this chance while we have it."

"We cannot retreat!" Olyvar pleaded, preparing to charge into the melee once again, hopeful to find Loras. But the hands of Andar Royce were too strong, and held him back from his desire to continue the fight.

"My lord, we are no use dead to Stannis. Already ten thousand or more Reachmen have gotten past us and are on their way to the capital. We must retreat to Riverrun, where we will be safe. We cannot die here!" Andar's words pierced Olyvar worse than any sword could have. _The day is lost. We have failed. _The Vale's stand against the Reachmen had not haulted their advance to the capital, and worse they were nearly surrounded. Olyvar wanted to continue, to kill every Tyrell man that he could before succumbing to death. But the images of all the men he had killed, of all the bodies that had been laid across the field began flashing in his mind.

And then he heard it. The sound of his uncle's voice, as if Eddard Stark was speaking to him from beyond the grave. _How many more must perish? You must live, my boy. Live. _It was all he needed to make a decision. "Sound the horns. We retreat for Riverrun."

"My father has already done so. He sent me to find you in this chaos." Olyvar was handed the reins of a horse that Andar must have found during the battle. "Come, we must ride with haste." As he mounted alongside his bannerman, he took one more look at the battle. Despite the fog, Olyvar could see the bloodsoaked fields they had fought to viciously for. But ultimately, he knew they had failed. He only hoped that they had depleted and stalled the Tyrells enough for it to make a difference.

_ Stannis, you had better win._

* * *

A/N: Poor Olyvar. Despite his best plans, he can't seem to catch a break, with Robb choosing the be King in the North and now his supposed failure at Bitterbridge. Wonder how the Riverlanders and Northmen are going to react to the Valemen returning to Riverrun after what has occurred. Guess we'll have to see, as well as how many men the Vale managed to kill, as well as how many they lost.

Sidenote: I am terrible artistically outside of writing, but I do enjoy the works of others. If there is anyone who wants to submit some fanart for the story, I can make it so it become the cover of the story itself. PM if interested!

Have a good day guys!


	39. ACOK: Sansa IIITyrion IV

Alright, so we're now going to round out the ACOK portion of the story with POVs from Sansa and Tyrion. Here we will have the first major deviation from the story, and as we continue into ASOS we are going to have more of them. But we'll leave that discussion in the A/N. Enjoy the update!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

As soon as he had been in her bed chambers, the Hound was gone, taking with him the song that Sansa had sung to him. Still breathless, the young Stark looked out to the battle still occurring around her. The screams of men, the blaze of green fire that had erupted earlier in the night. All of it was imprinted in her mind, and she figured that she would never forget this night for all of her days. Not even the wet touch of the Hound's face on her fingers.

"Lady Sansa." She turned quickly, terrified at who might be visiting her. After her recent encounter with the Hound just moments ago, she found herself still trembling. But there stood a boy, not much older than her, approaching from the doorway. "Lord Varys has sent me to receive you. It is time."

Unable to speak, Sansa simply nodded her understanding. Cloaking herself in a hooded garment, she followed the boy out of her quarters. She could no longer wait for Ser Dontos' promise to free her from her cage. Lord Tyrion's plan was her best chance for escape. As they rounded a corner, the boy came to a stop near the wall. Sansa was troubled for only a moment before she saw the wall move and reveal a passageway, much to her shock. "In. Quickly." The boy motioned for her, and Sansa followed without question.

As they continued their march, Sansa took the boy in. He was fairly handsome with mop black hair, but was wearing rags that would be commonly seen on smallfolk. She reasoned that the boy must have been one of the servants of the Red Keep, perhaps even Lord Varys' own personal servant. But the boy made no look back at her, simply continuing to traverse the secret tunnels of the Red Keep, guiding her through them as if he had learned them thoroughly. Left, right, another right, a left again. Sansa soon lost track as their hectic pace only quickened with each moment. The sounds of men screaming were gone now. Only the echo of footsteps registered in Sansa's mind.

Finally, the boy came to a stop at a ladder. "Go up here." He motioned to her, but Sansa did not move.

"Aren't you coming with me?" She didn't know why she wanted him to come with. She had never even seen him before tonight, but some part of her wanted her rescuer to join her. But he shook his hand violently in response.

"I cannot. Lord Varys still has need of me here. Go, and you will be saved." With that, he ran back in the same direction.

"Thank you!" Sansa called out to him, but he made no recognition that he heard her. She stood there for only a moment before turning back to the ladder. _Come on, Sansa. You're almost there. You're almost free. _She took a deep breath before ascending the ladder, which proved itself to be quite a climb. She had not fully seen how high she was in the darkness, but eventually she felt a ceiling. Pushing harder, she felt the ceiling pop up. Hope building, she rose from the tunnel to surface above ground in what seemed to be a ghastly looking room, the sole contents being a hooded figure, looking out into the street from a nearby window.

"Gods!" The man said as he heard Sansa climb up into the room with him. "You are here sooner than expected. Come, child. We have little time." The man grabbed her arm gently, leading her to the back of the room, where Sansa noticed there was a door. As they exited the building, the screams of men returned to her hearing, but they were not screams of death. Instead, she could make out one distinct call: "Tyrell!" was what many were shouting. But before she could process what was happening, the man had brought her to the horse. "Mount, and quickly!"

Sansa did as she was told, the man climbing up after her soon after. Suddenly, she felt another piece of cloth covering her, this one as black as the night. "Not a word, my lady. Not until I say so." The man spurred the horse onward, Sansa feeling its powerful legs pushing off of the ground as she traveled blind along with this stranger. With every stride the horse made, the sounds of the battle lessened, until finally she could not hear them.

_I am free. I'm truly free. _Tears began to fall down her face as she covered her mouth to prevent a cry from escaping. Once thought to be impossible, her greatest desire was now fulfilled. No longer would she have to be subject to another one of Joffrey's tortures, or any more moments with the Queen Regent. Sansa was going home. Back to Winterfell.

* * *

It was some time before Podrick returned with the Spider in tow, and the young boy looked quite distraught as he entered Tyrion's chambers. Noticing this, Tyrion dismissed him, for which the boy had seemingly been quite grateful for. Now alone, Tyrion looked at his accomplice with suspicion. "Has it been done?" He asked, with prayers to all of the Seven in his thoughts.

"Yes." The first word that escaped the Eunuch was all Tyrion needed to be relieved. _Thank the gods that girl is gone. _"Sansa Stark is now in the possession of one of my men, and they are heading up to Riverrun as we speak. Unfortunate that he cannot use the Kingsroad to take her directly there, but he knows the lands quite well. They will be safe."

"Good." Tyrion nodded at his ally, who returned it with a smile. "What are they saying about her disappearance?" Tyrion was aware that Joffrey had been arranged to be married to Margaery Tyrell in Sansa's place, just as they had planned on doing, with or without Sansa present. But Tyrion knew that the reaction to her disappearance was one that would be met with great shock and desperation to find her. Even now, Tyrion imagined his fuming father sending ravens across Westeros, ordering loyal lords to search the roads for a young girl.

"There is no viable piece of evidence to trace us to the deed, although my birds have heard both of our names mentioned separately." Varys said dismissively, as if there was no need for worry. "Some say they spotted the Hound taking her with him as he fled King's Landing. Others claim that Sansa did her best impersonation of Ashara Dayne, jumping from the highest point she could reach in the Red Keep and onto the rocks below., as her father's supposed lover did after Lord Eddard had slain Ser Arthur."

"The taller the tales, the better." Tyrion suddenly winced and rose a hand instinctively to his face. _The damn cut still hurts. _Blocking out the pain, he returned to conversing with Varys. "So long as no one knows of our involvement in this, we will be safe. No one suspects that I would have any part in this, just as no one will suspect you. Hopefully our _mutual friend _will take the fall."

"Quite unlikely." Varys remarked with a disappointed face. "Lord Baelish has been awarded the rights to Harrenhal after the war's conclusion, as well as being named Lord Paramount of the Trident for his efforts in persuading the Tyrells to choose us over Stannis and the Arryn boy."

"We should all be so appreciative of him, I suppose. The savior of King's Landing." Tyrion remarked sarcastically. Littlefinger had played his role in Tyrion's plans, and he had hoped to frame the once good friend of Catelyn Stark for the disappearance of Sansa. But from Varys' report, that was not going to occur now. "I hear Bitterbridge was a great triumph for our young Falcon."

"Indeed. Even if he did not secure Bitterbridge and prevent the Tyrells from crossing, it is said that his forces killed twenty five thousand Reachmen, as opposed to their three thousand lost." Varys looked back to the door for a moment before looking at Tyrion again, speaking in barely a whisper. "Rumors are that he ventures north to Riverrun, to make peace with his cousin and join the King in the North."

"The thought makes my father cringe, I'm sure." Already Tyrion had heard about how Robb Stark had crushed the Lannister reserve host at Oxcross. If Olyvar Arryn truly did abandon Stannis, then the two cousins would be a force they would have problems with. "That would give Robb Stark near fifty thousand men to use against us."

"A troubling thought for his enemies. Assuming, of course, w_e _are his enemies." The spymaster had finally come around to his implication, one which Tyrion did not like in the slightest.

"I'm not one to choose the losing side here, Spider. Olvyar Arryn and Robb Stark are pressing down on us, and it will not be long before Catelyn Tully has them united again." Tyrion remembered his last meeting with Olyvar, and how he knew that, somehow, the boy was not going to be on the losing side in this conflict. "Even if it means betting against my family, it's better than having my head on a spike."

"Playing for both sides has it advantages, I suppose." The eunuch said slyly. _I imagine you know enough about that, don't you? _"But do be careful about how long you play for both. Eventually, everyone must pick one." As Varys rose to leave his chambers, a curiosity came over Tyrion.

"Before you leave, I must know something, Varys." The eunuch looked back with an indifferent face. "Between two honest men, what was there to gain for you from helping me?"

The eunuch smiled, making Tyrion uneasy. "Oh my Lord Tyrion, your appreciation is all I strove for. That, and saving an innocent soul from an unnecessary fate was enough for me to lend my cooperation." With that, the eunuch departed, leaving Tyrion with a deep pit in his stomach. _He's going to want something from me. _But such thought were unimportant now. Sansa was safe, and she would tell Olyvar it was Tyrion's plan to free her and return her to Riverrun. Leaning back in his bed, Tyrion could not help but to smile wide. Either way this war ended, his head would be safe from harm.

* * *

A/N: NOW we get into the fun, creative part of the story. With Sansa out of King's Landing, and Tyrion seemingly going to be safe no matter what side wins, the challenge of creating a completely new deviation of the original universe begins in the ASOS portion of ASOIAF The scene is set for Robb and Olyvar to regroup at Riverrun, and that is likely where I will be beginning ASOS at, likely with a Catelyn POV. But from what Varys and Tyrion discussed, it seemed as if Olyvar got the better of the encounter with the Tyrells. Which begs the question; what went wrong?

Hope you guys are still enjoying the story. Keep reviewing, I always appreciate the feedback!


	40. ASOS: Catelyn IOlyvar I

Coming into ACOK territory, I'm in the process of fleshing out the events that are going to occur. We're staring out with a slight rewrite of ACOK: Catelyn I, as well as following up with a short Olyvar chapter detailing his return to Riverrun.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Stannis? What of Stannis?" Catelyn asked her returning brother Edmure, who possessed a disgusted and troublesome look on his face.

"He was defeated at King's Landing, unable to take the castle." Edmure spat in disgust. "His ships burned, his men slaughtered. They say he may be dead as well."

It was ill news to hear of a Lannister victory, but Catelyn was not nearly as distressed as her brother. Not when the haunting vision of Stannis' shadow running Renly through his spine still stalked the dark corners of her mind. Sometimes she wondered how Olyvar could follow such a man. _Olyvar. _In her captivity she had forgotten. Her nephew was on Stannis' side of the war. If Stannis had been defeated, was Olyvar captive as well?

"Edmure, tell me of Olyvar. What of our nephew?" Now Catelyn felt the same anxiety that her brother must have been feeling about Stannis' defeat. She cared not for the Stormlord, but her nephew's health was of grave importance.

"From our reports, the boy is fine." Relief swept over Catelyn, although her brother's hard face made it difficult for her to show as such. "Word is he battled the Tyrells two days before the battle at King's Landing occurred. Slaughtered a great deal of Reachmen. Our scouts say he is on his way here, to Riverrun."

"That is good, is it not?" Despite remembering their fight, she knew that Olyvar and Robb shared no ill will against one another. Perhaps there was still a chance for a Tully alliance to form out of Stannis' defeat. "If we can have Olyvar join us-"

"You don't seem to understand, Cat." Edmure spoke with a great deal of bitterness now. "Highgarden as declared for Joffrey. As has Dorne. The whole of the south is controlled by the Lannisters now that the Stormlands have been conquered once more. And now we have nothing to trade for your girls after you released the Kingslayer."

"It was my right as a mother." Catelyn spoke with pride and strength. _Edmure, you can't possibly understand. You have yet to have a child, let alone have two die. _"I need my girls back, Edmure."

"Then you should have waited. You were never patient though, were you Cat?" From his person, Edmure revealed a letter. Catelyn immediately recognized the seal. _The Eyrie. Lysa? _"We just received this within the hour." Edmure cleared his throat before opening the letter and reading it aloud to Catelyn.

_Lords Stark and Tully_

_We write to you with extreme urgency regarding the health of Sansa Stark. We believe that Lady Sansa is to be smuggled out of the capital by the workings of Tyrion Lannister sometime in the near future. Although we cannot say for certain, there is extreme evidence to our theory, and we are bound to inform you of this revelation._

_Maester Colemon._

Catelyn had lowered herself into her chair, unsure of whether to feel joyous or distraught. If Tyrion Lannister had smuggled her daughter out of the capital before Stannis' attack, there was a greater chance of getting her daughter back now. But if Catelyn had released Jaime for nothing, surely the lords that served her son would be even more furious than they were now.

"I have send ravens and scouting parties, instructing our men to search for _both _Sansa and the Kingslayer." Edmure said in a gruff voice. "I hope that the Imp managed to get Sansa out of the city before the battle started. They say he was struck dead during the battle against Stannis."

"Let us hope he was not." Catelyn could barely come up with a response to her brother. Her mind was disorganized, floating everywhere. First, it went to Sansa. Then to Arya. Robb, then his brothers. His sweet brothers, taken from them. Finally, it rested on her beloved. _Eddard, oh how I miss you. _She wanted Edmure to leave so that she may grieve alone. Even the thought of getting Sansa back did not dull the pain of her losses. But before she could beckon him out, she heard a horn blow.

"A warning?" Edmure said, pausing momentarily before exiting the chambers. Catelyn looked after him for a moment before exiting herself, only stopping to take a look at her ailing father. Following Edmure up to the battlements, she was met with a sight she did not expect to see. There, fluttering in the wind, was the banners of the silver crescent and falcon, held up to represent what looked to be five thousand men outside of Riverrun. At the front of them all was her nephew, waiting for someone to come and parlay with him.

"I must go and greet him." Edmure swept down from the battlements, leaving Catelyn alone to survey the Vale's army. _Lysa. _She thought to herself. _Atleast one of your children will be here for Father._

* * *

Olyvar

His entrance into the keep of Riverrun was one that Olyvar Arryn wanted to forget. Even during the days of their approach did he feel a sense of dread about returning here, and now he understood that it was quite justified. He felt the judgmental, untrusting and angry eyes of every Riverlord and Northman present locked on him as he made his way into the castle. Even his uncle's cordial attitude towards him did not alleviate his uneasiness. _Of course they hate you, you fool. You struck their king. _Even if the fight between Robb and himself seemed like it occurred a lifetime ago, surely his men would remember it like it had occurred yesterday.

Eventually, he and Edmure made their way into a room, shielded from the angry eyes that stalked Olyvar's every footstep. "You've come here with far less troops than expected." Edmure commented, taking a seat opposite of his nephew. "I heard you still had seventeen thousand after your battle with Highgarden."

"Not all of us have the luxury of using the Twins as our personal crossing, Uncle." Olyvar began relaxing slightly. How long has it been since he actually was able to sit down in a chair? "I sent eight thousand to secure the Ruby Ford for me to cross in the future."

"So you plan is to return to the Vale?" His uncle's inquiry struck Olyvar. He did not know what his next move would be. He knew that Riverrun was the only place he could have retreated to after the battle at Bitterbridge, but his next move was unclear. Stannis' defeat complicated everything.

"I-I do not know." Olyvar began attempting to think of strategies for his army, now seemingly without a cause. "Stannis-"

"Stannis has been lost, my nephew." Olyvar turned his head to see a sympathetic Edmure Tully looking him in the eyes. "I know how you loved him as a mentor, but the man lost everything in the Blackwater. Do not follow him into the pit."

"What would you have me do, Uncle?" It was not out of anger that Olyvar questioned the acting lord of Riverrun, but confusion. For the first time since the beginning of the war, he did not know what to do. He was growing frustrated with the war effort, specifically Stannis' decisions and his own personal failures.

"Let us speak of Bitterbridge." His uncle was attempting to change the subject. Perhaps Edmure Tully did not know what Olyvar should do next either. "Tell me, what happened there?"

Olyvar sighed deeply before recalling the Vale's strategy at Bitterbridge. "Near the bridge, on the eastern bank of the river, there was a large hill. We planned to put the majority of our foot soldiers there and fortify, bombarding the enemy with our archers that were station atop of the hill. With the bridge being so narrow, we guessed that they would try trekking some men through the waters of the river as well."

"They did so, I assume?" His uncle inquired, to which Olyvar nodded.

"Our positioning was superior, even if we were heavily outnumbered. We set up a cavalry charge in the north to force them south. Our goal was to have another group of cavalry go around the hill and charge the enemy from the south as well, with the hopes of circling them, using the river to our advantage. From there, we would funnel them onto the bridge or into the river, and force them back across."

"It worked for a while, but the strategy failed when the left flank began to crumble." Olyvar remembered back to the discussions with his commanders on how it all had gone wrong. "The Tyrells saw this, and sent everything they had down south in an attempt to circle us. Luckily, Lord Royce recognized it, and began the retreat north."

"A bold strategy, attempting to funnel them back across the bridge. It sounded as if you were quite successful in your assault. I hear the Tyrells lost twenty five thousand men." His uncle's praises were not lost upon Olyvar, although he did not feel the same way about his supposed success.

"If I had put only a thousand more men in the left, perhaps they would not have broken. Perhaps we would have taken the bridge, and Stannis would be king at this very moment."

"Then it would be us Stannis would have ordered you to fight." Again, his uncle dumbstruck him. Olyvar had not considered this yet. If Stannis had won, would he have ordered him to strike against the Starks and Tullys? Against his family?

"Perhaps you are right…" Olyvar sat in thought for a moment before asking a question of his uncle. "You know of the battle that occurred at King's Landing, correct? I have not been able to be informed while making my way here. Perhaps you can tell me about the health of Tyrion Lannister." But upon mentioning Tyrion, Olyvar saw his uncle looked down and away, unable to meet his eye. Edmure's downcast face was all the answer he needed. "Who did it?"

"They say it was Stannis' men who put the axe to Tyrion's head. We received word from your councilors in the Vale that Tyrion was planning to smuggle your cousin out of King's Landing before the fighting began. We are unsure if he was successful in doing so before his death. Your aunt was just informed as well."

"May I go speak to her?" Not since the meeting between Renly and Stannis had Olyvar seen his dear aunt. But again, Edmure met his question with a look of foreboding.

"Your aunt is confined to the quarters of your grandfather, awaiting the return of King Robb from the Westerlands. She has released the Kingslayer in an attempt to gain Sansa back from the capital." Olyvar could not believe it. Robb's one great hostage, Tywin Lannister's golden child, was freed from his grasp. "She was unaware of Lord Tyrion's supposed plan to smuggle your cousin out of the capital."

"Have you sent men after him?" Olyvar asked with anxiety. Even if Sansa was smuggled out of King's Landing, Jaime Lannister was still much too valuable to be lost like this.

"Him, as well as orders for them to search for Sansa throughout the Riverlands." Olyvar nodded, still full of worry. "I must go. Robb is returning to us from the Westerlands quite soon, and there is much to be done around Riverrun. I assume you will be staying with us for a while longer?"

"Of course. Thank you, Uncle." Edmure Tully smiled at his nephew before exiting the chambers, leaving Olyvar alone to think in silence. If Tyrion was truly dead, and Sansa had not been smuggled out of the capital, she would be subject to the Lannisters. Exhausted, Olyvar lowered his head into his hands, and began to pray for Sansa's safety.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter is likely to be either a Sansa or Colemon chapter, although I am toying with the introduction of a new POV character to the series. A Tyrion chapter documenting the occurrences of King's Landing without Sansa should be coming pretty soon as well. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter(s). Remember that the Catelyn portion was an add-on/rewrite of her original ACOK I, so I recommend reading that up until the shift for a full chapter. Have a good day guys.


	41. ASOS: Sansa I

sFor clarification, I did make a mistake in the previous chapter. Olyvar should have said he was sending around eight thousand to the Ruby Ford, not twelve. Reasoning for the mistake will be clarified in the next chapter Olyvar is featured in, and I thank Pirate Ninja for pointing it out. I get mixed up with counting sometimes. I'd like to think it happens to all of us.

For now, we have a Sansa POV documenting how the now freed Princess of the North is faring in her quest to return to Riverrun and her family.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

* * *

"Are any other people here?" The sound of heavy footsteps created a sense of panic in Sansa, as she was laying down on the ground, her ear picking up the noises from above so clearly it was as if they were happening in her own mind.

"No sir. There's been a few people going in and out, but no one that's stayed for longer than a few hours. The war has dwindled business a great deal, the roads are quite dangerous now." A kinder voice met the harsher one's inquiry with a cordial response. "If you want, we can give you ale and bread from our stock."

"Quiet, you old fool!" Sansa heard a stomp, and imagined that the soldier had motioned in a threatening manner at the other man. "Was there a young girl here? Red hair, about as tall as your daughter over there?"

"Granddaugher, ser. And yes, there have been two or three young girls who possessed red hair that have entered my inn in the past few days, all heading west down the Goldroad after departing. None of which looked too extravagant, mind you." At first, Sansa thought the old man would finally be giving them up, but it was simply a ruse. She looked over to her companion, who was focused on the conversation. He momentarily broke his concentration and met Sansa's gaze, motioning for her to keep quiet.

"Very well then, old man." A third voice now entered the fray, followed by the sound of money hitting a table. "Sorry for bothering you. Let's go, Tyus." Sansa heard two steps of footsteps slowly decrease in volume, soon disappearing completely. She looked back over to her companion, who was motioning for her to stay in place. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing light.

"You can come out now. They're gone." The signal was given, and Sansa rose from the ground, through the trap door and into the main room of the inn, helped up by an old man who possessed a friendly face. He had thinning grey hairs on the top of his head, with a few whiskers growing from his chin. "It is good that we saw the patrol coming, else we would not have been able to hide you in time."

"We are very grateful, old man." Her companion rose up after Sansa did, shaking the man's hand as he did so. Sansa proceeded to brush off the dirt on her face and hands, choosing not to bother with the rags she was now dressed in. Her guardian had seen to her wardrobe change the moment they had entered the inn, explaining that her expensive robes, in combination with her Tully features, would be a dead giveaway to her identity. So, as much as it pained Sansa to do so, she discarded them. _How does Arya deal with this?_ Sansa could not understand how her sister had thought playing in the dirt with rags on to ever be fun. Then again, Sansa was not exactly _playing _in dirt.

"Any enemy of the Lannisters is my ally." The old man said with contempt, looking back at the door Sansa presumed the soldiers had exited from. "After what that damned Gregor Clegane did to Princess Elia and her children, I could never find it in my heart to support them. Nor King Robert for condoning it."

"Robert was not perfect, but he's a better king than the one that preceded him, as well as the one that succeeds him now." Sansa's guardian said pointedly, causing the elder man to chuckle.

"That second one could very well be. If the rumors about that boy king of ours are true, then I'd likely find it better to support Robb Stark or Olyvar Arryn than the Lannisters."

"You mean Stannis Baratheon?" Sansa spoke for the first time. "Isn't Lord Arryn supporting Lord Stannis' claim?" From everything that Sansa understood about the events that led up to the battle in King's Landing, Olyvar had fought the Tyrell army in Stannis' name, inflicting heavy casualties before the Tyrells could arrive.

"That may still be the case, but it's not what the rumors I hear from the men that enter this inn are telling me." The old man looked to the door again before looking over at a girl in the corner of the inn. She was quite young, maybe a year older or younger than Sansa, with black hair and dark eyes. When the man nodded at her, she nodded back and exited the door, presumably to stand guard once again.

"What do you mean, old man?" Sansa's guardian spoke in barely a whisper, despite no one being around them in the inn. The innkeep, despite housing them, rarely shared any information with them. In fact, Sansa remembered that there was rarely any talk at all about the war during their entire stay at the inn. Only the occasional question of if she was comfortable or hungry would come from the old man before being followed with a soft smile.

"I've heard that Lord Arryn and his army was just east of here several days ago. They headed north through the wilderness after crossing Blackwater Rush." Sansa looked at her guardian, who met her with a guilty face. It had been his decision to hide in the inn, apparently supported by Lord Varys, according to her guardian, for a number of days to avoid the Lannister and Tyrell patrols. But now, they had seemingly just missed an escort back to Riverrun, the thought of which demoralized Sansa.

"I should have known he would be using the Goldroad to help get himself back to Riverrun." The man himself seemed angry with himself. "I apologize, Princess. I was careless in my thoughts."

"Do not apologize, Ser. You were the one who guided me out of the capital, away from Joffrey and his wickedness. I still have many thanks to give you." Sansa gave a bow and thanked her rescuer once again. It was what she did every time she was frustrated with how things were progressing, reminding herself that without him, she would still be at Joffrey's mercy. "But pray, tell me your name. I do feel as if I should know."

"Princess, you know I cannot say." The man chuckled, making Sansa slightly uneasy. Every night since they left King's Landing, she had attempted to get some sort of information, any information, about the man who stood before her. Yet despite her best efforts, the only thing she knew was what he looked like; a brown haired man who was aged a tad, with a neatly trimmed goatee. "I was instructed to return you to your family, and I intend to do so. _Without _my name being known to anyone."

Sansa was about to respond, but the door to the inn opened suddenly, sending a shock down her back. But it was only the girl who had returned. "No patrols are coming from either direction. They should be safe."

"Good. It is time." The old man went into his back room for a moment before reappearing, carrying a large bag along with him. He handed it to her guardian before speaking again. "The two of you should be able to make your way north without any difficulty, the Lannisters do not have a great presence off of the Kingsroad in these lands. You need only follow the river north. When you reach the Gods Eye, you will find a ferry close to the mouth. The man will take you to Harrenhal, or the western shore. The decision will be yours."

"Thank you so much." Sansa could not resist her desire, and hugged the old man with enthusiasm, which was met with a light pat on the back.

"My lady, it was an honor to house you in my inn for as long as I did. I bid you safe travels." He pulled away, smiling widely. Sansa felt a tear nearly fall from her eyes. _He's been so kind. _"Now go, before the patrols continue."

"Of course." The men exchanged one last handshake before her guardian led Sansa outside to their horses, the two of them riding north through the trees. Sansa managed one peak back to see the old man and the girl standing outside of the inn, viewing them as the pair disappeared into the treeline. As they began to be obscured by the trees, Sansa focused her attention to her guardian.

"Who were they? Really?" The question had tugged at Sansa for quite some time, and now that they had left their shelter, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. The man looked at her, contemplating the question for a moment before turning his head back to look northwards.

"They, as well as I, are servants to Lord Varys. We do as he wills us to do, and he helps to support us. That innkeep once ran a successful business in the days of the Targaryens. But Robert's Rebellion destroyed all he held dear. His inn, his family, all gone, save his infant granddaughter, whose parents had been lost to the war."

"So how did he get it all back?" Sansa inquired, curious with the tale the man was telling. It was nothing like the tales she was told of knights and chivalry, but those had proven to be false in King's Landing. This tale, however, she could somewhat believe.

"Lord Varys came to the man one day, after hearing of the inn's destruction. He offered to pay for the reconstruction of the inn without any great monetary charge to the owner." The man snickered at his own remark before continuing. "All Varys required was for the man to inform him of certain things from time to time."

"Like what?"

"People, rumors, general information that may be useless to regular people. But in our lord's hands, it is invaluable." Sansa could see a slight gleam in the man's eye as he spoke about the Master of Whisperers. Sansa had seen Varys a few times in King's Landing, but had never spoken to him directly. The sight of him had made her feel uneasy, but even she did not understand why. _Is Varys really as great as this man is saying he is? "_No more questions, Princess. We must focus on getting you to Riverrun in the next few days, and we cannot risk exposing ourselves."

_Riverrun. _Every night they had spent in the inn, Sansa had dreamed of what Riverrun would look like, of what her arrival would be like. She imagined herself rushing through the gates to hug her mother and brother, keeping them in her arms for as long as possible. Now, knowing Olyvar was likely there, she imagined herself hugging him as well, and possibly never letting go. He, Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys had saved her from the cage of the capital, and she intended to fly home to her family. _I'm going home. _A smile crept on her face once more, the thought of it all bringing great joy to her.

* * *

A/N: Sansa's journey seems to be going on well enough. My goal with this chapter was to try to give insight into what Varys' spy network would look like, considering we get barely a glimpse into it (for good reasons, I'm sure) in the actual novels. I can imagine Varys has a number of agents who are loyal to him, varying from smallfolk and nobles to merchants and his ever present 'little birds', like the one we saw in the last Sansa POV.

And yes, I know Olyvar had no true hand in Sansa's flight to freedom, but from her perspective, the only reason she was freed was because of his friendship with Tyrion, who was the architect to her escape in the first place. Even here, our favorite dwarf gets no respect.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, have a good one.


End file.
